


Last Resort

by SunnyWeathers



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:13:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25461478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunnyWeathers/pseuds/SunnyWeathers
Summary: Trevor just wanted to sleep. It wasn't supposed to be like this. How did his life end up this way? He should have burned that stupid fucking spellbook before Sypha had a chance to look at it.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 35





	1. A Little Black Book

Trevor ran his hand along the leather spines of tomes, brushing against dusty glass vials and caressing old, beaten bones. So much history collected here and no one to teach him but himself. Trevor sighed, slipping past the dusty bookshelves and up one of the wooden staircases. But he's just so tired now. What was the point in learning when it was just him, the last of the Belmonts? There was no one to pass it on to.

  
Trevor continued upwards until he could see most of the bottom floor. He's always liked heights for as long as he could remember. At first, he loved it because he was unreachable and, later, after the fire, it gave him an advantage in fights. Sypha moved amongst the bookshelves, occasionally pulling one of the books out and frantically flipping through pages. Alucard trailed behind her, taking any books that she deemed essential. He could see them talking to one another, lips moving in rapid succession as fingers pointed at yellowed pages. Trevor's glad at least they seem to be enjoying themselves. Maybe Adrian could look after everything for him, just in case. He would give it to Sypha, but she might accidentally destroy the place if she tried any spells. No, it was safer in Adrian's hands. Giving another sigh, Trevor leaned against the railing, dragging a hand down his face trying to wake himself up. God, he could use a fucking drink right about now.

  
Adrian turned, gold eyes swinging up towards him, lips briefly turning downwards as Adrian caught sight of him. Trevor gave a tired wave, and what he hoped was a smile. Sypha drew the dhampir's gaze back to a book she had in her hands. It was a thin, black book that looked like it had seen better days, and probably hundreds of years old. Shortly, the two were in a heated discussion about whatever was in the book. Scratching the back of his neck, Trevor straightened, his spine giving a series of pops. He's getting too old for this. Heh. Trevor never thought he would make it this far. He thought he would have been dead way before this, either by one too many hits to the head in a bar fight or bleeding out after fighting a monster. How he survived, God only knows, probably to torture him. After all, excommunicated from the church, watching his family burn in his ancestral home, and forced to fight for his life every day wears on him. Trevor plucked, throwing knives from a nearby cabinet, a bow, and a quiver full of arrows hung on the stone wall. Tossing on his fur-lined cloak, he began to ascend the outer staircase, passing many portraits of Belmonts long dead. Trevor stopped at Leon Belmont's painting. Piercing grey eyes stared back down at him from under white-blonde hair. Shit, the man probably thought he was a failure of a Belmont. Shaking his head, Trevor rushed up the stairs with his eyes trained on the steps ahead of him, refusing to look at any other portraits. He needed to get out, to run, to hunt. Something, so he didn't have to think. His feet hit the stone floor and dead grass that surrounded the ruins quickly followed by another pair. Trevor stopped but didn't look back. He didn't want to fight the dhampir right now.

  
"Belmont," Adrian spoke softly from the entrance of the Hold.

  
"I'm just going to hunt." Trevor interrupted anything the man might have said. He didn't have the heart to hear it. Moving away towards the treeline, Trevor heard Adrian speak again.  
"Be careful." Giving the hybrid a backward wave, Trevor slipped into the trees. The sun was setting, so he had to work fast before the animals bedded down for the night. Trevor stepped swiftly and lightly, bow drawn and nocked with an arrow as he spotted rabbit tracks. Following the trail that folded and twisted on itself, Trevor spotted a bush moving; the bottom leaves fluttering frantically. Drawing the string back, he crouched low to the ground, ready to spring into action. His cloak pooled around his feet in a puddle of black, worn fabric, and fur brushed against his face. The bush moved faster and faster.

  
Suddenly the rabbit jumped towards him, zig-zagging past his feet in fright. Trevor froze in place, eyes scanning the undergrowth for any movement. The wind changed direction, carrying a heavy scent he was so familiar with, blood. Just underneath the rustle of leaves, Trevor could hear the sounds of ripping flesh. He climbed the tree beside him, hoping it was a wolf or a fox. A large, hunched grey form nestled against a tree hid in the shade. Trevor hoped the demon had just killed a deer or another animal. He didn't want to deal with it. He just wanted something to eat and sleep, maybe find hidden alcohol in the Hold. A branch snapped across from Trevor and behind the demon. It's cat-like head snapped towards the sound, large ears twisting back and forth. He could see the creature's hackles rise, and a snarl slipped past bloodied teeth while clawed hands clutched it's meal closer to its body. Trevor closed his eyes; the image burned onto his eyelids. A young child hung from the cat demon's claws—a fresh kill, probably from the town nearby. The chest cracked open with her organs spilling out and throat missing. Tear tracks still wet and glistening in the fading light while dead frightened eyes looked skyward. Another branch broke, closer this time. The demon gave another warning call, standing up from it's hunched position, white-tipped tail whipping furiously.

  
Trevor took the shot, arrow whistling, and embedding into the flesh at the base of the skull with a thud. The demon stumbled and whirled around, fangs bared and bloody. Yellow demonic eyes trained on him as the creature dropped the child. Fuck. He threw himself out of the tree as the demon leaped, claws biting into the branch he had just vacated. Discarding the bow and pulling Morning Star from his side, Trevor dodged again, tumbling in the dirt and springing back to his feet. He unclipped his cloak - fabric and fur sliding off his shoulders and hitting the ground. Snapping the metal whip outwards, he clipped the creature's ear, forcing it to retreat briefly. The demon and Trevor circled each other, waiting to strike. The girl's arm crushed under the monster's weight. He could hear the bone snap and crunch, ground into the dirt. It's gone too far. Whipping out Morning Star, the demon danced away from the ballast and the whip, hissing with spittle flying and frothing at the mouth. The iron weight sent clumps of dirt into the air. Snapping up, down, the chain billowed like a wave, jangling in a cascade of metal and released from the ground. Trevor put his hand up, twisting the chain ninety degrees, following the demon, and striking the lower spine. The monster howled as flesh blistered and blasted outwards, twisting and contorting to get away.

  
Planting himself in front of the body, Trevor pulled back Morning Star to hold the end in his hand. The cat demon hissed, crouched so low on all four, it's chest brushed the fallen leaves and dirt. "Come at me, you bastard!" Trevor antagonized, beckoning the creature to come at him. The demon gave a lunge forward, trying to bluff the hunter. Trevor didn't back down, tossing out the weighted end and swung it around. The end slammed into the demon's ribs, throwing the creature leftwards. It tumbled and rolled in the leaves, bloodying Belmont land. Pulling itself onto its hind legs, one clawed hand was pressed against visible bones. "Belmonts," the cat demon seethed, mouth moving unnaturally to speak human words. "always running into danger, except for you." Trevor frowned, pulling back Morning Star, spinning the end slowly. "Nice try, kitty cat." He tsked at the creature.

Gray lips pulled back from sharp ivory, and the cat demon gave a mockery of a grin. "You ran, little Belmont. Ran while your family faced their fate. You should join them." The cat finished in a snarl, lunging towards Trevor, claws outstretched. He threw Morning Star forward, the demon ducked under the blessed weight and closing the distance. Rank odor hit Trevor's nose as the creature slammed into him, claws digging into his sides. Sitting triumphantly and gazing down at him, the cat licked it's bloodied jowl. "I'm going to enjoy eating you, little Belmont." Leaning down, the demon moved to rip Trevor's throat out. He lashed his hand out, knife striking true. Blood alighted his face, warm and viscous. Trevor pushed harder, driving the blessed blade further into the right eye as the demon tried to pull away. Toppling onto its side, the creature convulsed as the head bubbled and bulged under the skin. Rolling away from the beast, Trevor jumped to his feet and watched as the head exploded, brain and bone becoming the burst of a star upon the ground. Retrieving the blade, the bow, and MorningStar, Trevor wrapped his cloak around his shoulders. He approached the dead girl. Kneeling down, the Belmont closed her brown eyes and folded her hands over her open torso.

  
"At least you don't have to suffer anymore, I'll put you to rest," Trevor whispered as he lifted the girl into his arms. His cloak enclosed the girl, safe from the world. No more hunting tonight, enough blood has been spilled. Trevor slipped between the trees and towards the Belmont Cemetery. Centuries-old stone covered in moss sat heavy in the grass and dirt. He passed by piles of rocks. Eyes stopped at each heap, mentally counting and saying who lies under each one: Mother, Father, Caroline, Gabriella, Annette, Christina, and Isabella. "Sorry, dad, mom, another daughter needs to be buried. I hope you don't mind if she joins." Trevor apologized softly, gently placing the girl down between Annette and Christina. Unclasping his cloak, he put it over her and rolled up his bloodied sleeves.

Trevor spotted a leaning wooden shack. It used to be the gardener's workspace. Fortunately, he and his family had taken a vacation, so they were not on the grounds when the church attacked. The whole shack was rotten and on the verge of collapse, and the door was missing chunks of wood. In the gaps of the door, Trevor could see clay pottery, rusty broken tools, and leaning in a far corner was the shovel. The same shovel he had used over eight years ago. There were still bloody handprints from where his hands bled as 12-year-old Trevor dug their graves. Here he was again, with bloody hands, digging another grave on Belmont land. God, he had never wanted to do this again. Shit. Fuck. Trevor ripped the rotted door apart, crushing the soft, rotting wood in his fists. Soon, there was no door, and Trevor was smashing pots against walls and the dirt floor. Surrounded by shards of clay, he stood there, panting with his head buried in his hands. One breath. Two. Trevor sighed and grabbed the shovel. Best to do it quickly before Sypha started wondering where he was. Trevor glanced at the shadows that hung underneath the trees that surrounded the Hold, at one spot that was slightly darker than the others.

  
The sun finished setting, and the moon was crawling higher and higher by the time the grave was ready. Despite the chilly summer night, Trevor could feel sweat slide down his spine and at the sides of his temples. One last chunk of dirt, and he climbed out of the grave that was as tall as him. Burying the shovel head in the dirt pile, Trevor uncovered the girl's corpse. He wished he could give her a proper burial, with the church and even a damn coffin. Picking her up, Trevor carefully hopped back into the grave and gently placed her down inside. His punctured sides feebly protested at the movement, but pain was an old friend, and Trevor learned to ignore it a long time ago. Refolding her hands and brushing back tangled brown hair, he retreated from the girl's final resting place. Picking up the shovel, Trevor began piling the dirt back into the grave. He began muttering under his breath, speaking a prayer to a God he's been excommunicated from. While he may be unwelcome in a church, that didn't mean she didn't deserve a prayer.

_My sister in faith, I entrust you to God, Who created you._   
_May you return to the One Who formed you from the dust of this earth._   
_May Mary, the angels, and all the saints come to meet you as you go forth from this life._   
_May Christ Who was crucified for you bring you freedom and peace._   
_May Christ, the Son of God, Who died for you, take you into His kingdom._   
_May Christ, the Good Shepherd, give you a place within His flock._   
_May He forgive your sins and keep you among His people._   
_May you see your Redeemer face to face and enjoy the sight of God forever._   
_Amen._

Trevor finished, giving the dirt a hard pat and a sigh, wiping the sweat from his brow. "One more thing." He whispered as he began piling large rubble stones for a grave marker. Once it was about knee-high, Trevor crouched and gave the topmost stone a pat. "There. I wish there was more I could do, but at least you can rest easy. My family will look after you, I promise." Standing, with bones that he could physically feel creaking, Trevor gathered his cloak and clasped it back over his body despite the blood and smell. He'll wash later. He was too tired to care about anything else tonight. Slipping back into the Belmont Hold, Trevor descended the steps, eyes trained forward, not once gazing at the Belmonts that lined the walls. At the bottom of the stairs at the closed wooden door, Trevor could hear voices talking on the other side. The door creaked open just a slice, spilling a sliver of flickering firelight into the stairwell's shadows.

  
"Sypha, stop. Leave him be. Belmont will be back." The dhampir spoke reassuringly to the Speaker. Trevor hung back in the shadows, not even breathing and dampening his heart rate from spiking. Alucard might know he was there if he made any sudden movements. Maybe he should sleep outside tonight. That sounded like the best option at the moment.  
"What if he's hurt? We need him." Sypha protested, the door opening just a fraction wider. A shadow moved and blocked the light from escaping the crack, plunging the hunter back into the darkness of the stairwell.

  
"He's fine, Belmont can take care of himself. Besides, if one of us gets lost in the woods, he would need to track us down. He knows these lands better than you or I. Have trust in him, he will return." Alucard reasoned, gently moving the Speaker away from the door and deeper into the Hold.

  
"Okay." Sypha relented in a sigh, her word fading away as they retreated from the open door, light returning as a needle in the darkness, running and bending over his worn black cloak that pooled around his covered feet. Trevor stood there for a long time, staring at that flickering beam of light, twisting and leaping across the fabric. Why? He could disappear back into the darkness that fringed humanity, moving around and never settling down. Maybe even out of Wallachia altogether, someplace warmer. Perhaps back to the homelands of Leon Belmont. Trevor dared a glance upwards towards the portrait of the first Belmont hunter. No, he wouldn't be welcomed there. Not if he ran away. Trevor's own mind revolted at the thought of running away from a fight. He was a Belmont, and Belmont's never ran. They ran headfirst into danger and death, now he was making up for what he should have done over eight years ago. Trevor would finish this if this was the last thing he would ever do. Preferably the last since Trevor didn't think he could go on anymore.

  
Turning away from the portrait, Trevor marched into the Hold, cloak sweeping the floor behind him. Tightly shutting the door behind him, his eyes caught Sypha's and Alucard's from the bottom floor. Both were watching him warily as he descended the stairs without a word. Sypha gave him a shaky, relieved smile. Blue eyes roamed over his form, trying to look past his furred cloak, her smile turning downwards as she saw his face. He didn't even bother to wipe the dried demon blood from his face to ease her worries.

  
"You smell like blood," Alucard mentioned as he turned back to a slim black book, slender gloved hands turning brittle, yellowed pages. Sypha glanced at the dhampir, before snapping back onto Trevor. Her mouth opened, but no words spilled forth.

  
"Yeah," Trevor absently agreed, hands coming out from beneath his cloak. They were covered in red, some parts were large clumps of congealed blood. There was dirt as well, smeared into the gore, turning it a muddy red.

  
"What happened?" Sypha asked softly, not daring to move closer or speak louder in a whisper, as if he was a frightened creature. Trevor didn't answer, only moved away from the pair, aware of their stares on his back. It was time to look for that alcohol. Maybe it would be strong enough so he wouldn't dream tonight. Trevor gave up after aimlessly wandering for a while between the dusty shelves and mounted skeletons. He tucked himself in the darkest corner of the Hold, squished in a gap between two bookcases. Tucking his head down, so the fur tickled past his ears and cloak tightly wrapped around his body, Trevor lightly dozed. Every noise made his muscles twitch and tense, and his eyes looking through slitted lids. Fortunately, neither Sypha nor Alucard found him. He heard Sypha wandering around, gently calling for him, but Alucard dissuaded her from looking for long and to leave him be for the night. Trevor was thankful for the dhampir. He didn't want to talk at the moment. Shifting in place and readjusting numb limbs, Trevor began to doze again.

***

Sypha looked around again, trying to spot Trevor slipping around amongst the shelves, but he was deftly hidden. Alucard was reading one of the more massive tomes that she had found that was written in Adamic and translated into Latin. It was a strange book filled with the accounts of Dracula's castle and many of the Night Creatures that work within. He was reclining on a leather wingback chair he had discovered in one of the storage rooms. Probably to be used in a study that was supposed to be built down here in the Hold. Alucard had found it's matching pair sitting alongside the seat, and now she was sitting across from the vampire looking for some clue to trap Dracula's castle. She was reading from a magician's notebook that was written approximately 500 years ago. There were some excellent theories that the magician had thought of. However, he never completed any of them, and many were in creating weapons or wards against Night Creatures. A few were tracking, and entrapment spells, but they were too weak to contain the castle. Sighing, her eyes looked around again, still no Trevor. Where could he be? The man was covered, face spattered, and hands soaked in blood and gore. He also didn't say a single word to her, just floated away like a ghost, his tan skin pale and sheened with sweat. She was worried he might also be hurt.

  
"Worrying about him isn't going to help," Alucard spoke, making her jump and turn to the vampire as he turned another page in the book, gold eyes not once leaving the yellowed paper and inky words. Sypha snapped the book shut a little harder than she intended to, and set it atop the precarious book pile that rested by her chair, nearly as tall as the leather armrest. She hoped it wouldn't fall over.

  
"It's natural to worry. I've never seen Trevor act like that before. Do you know what happened?" Sypha asked, fingers twisting in one of her longer locks of orange hair. A nervous habit she has tried to break. Alucard didn't move for a moment, eyes glued to the open tome and golden blonde hair falling in a curtain. Taking an unnecessarily deep breath for a vampire, Alucard sighed and closed his book and set it aside on a stool he had also discovered hidden away. It was to be Trevor's seat, or so the vampire said. Brushing back errant hair, Alucard stood up.

  
"Come with me," He said solemnly, sweeping up the stairs of the Hold. Sypha scrambled to keep up with the man, blue robes flapping loudly in the silence of the vast archive. She followed Alucard out and into the dark stairwell, with a final glance back to see Trevor to no avail. "May I?" Alucard asked with a clawed hand held out to her. He wanted to carry her up, so they wouldn't waste time. Giving a stiff nod, she stood still as Alucard slipped a hand around her waist securely and lifted them upwards, straight to the top to where the hearthstone ward rested as the entryway. Moving through the stone like water, Alucard released her on the grass and began walking away into the woods. She said nothing as the vampire easily traveled through the darkened wood, never tripping or stumbling on a root or getting caught in a briar's branches. The wind picked up, shaking the tops of trees and brought the smell of rot and death. Sypha covered her nose, but it was too late. It coated her mouth and lungs like a thick slime.

  
"Alucard?" She questioned as they continued to move towards the terrible smell. The vampire didn't answer, only stopped in a small break in the trees. Clouds rolled past the moon and illuminated the clearing before her. Earth was broken, leaves disturbed, and a dark black liquid covered the ground. There was a fight, an attack. Trevor, he might be hurt. Sypha tried to turn back, but Alucard grabbed her by the shoulder and pointed back into the clearing. She followed his finger and spotted the corpse of a Night Creature. It's head missing, leaving only a stump with dried, clumped blood. She couldn't recognize what type it was, maybe a wolf or a cat. It had grey fur and clawed hands.

  
Trevor must have killed the demon. Without releasing her shoulder, Alucard turned her around and began guiding her back to the Hold. It explained why Trevor was so tired, but she's seen him kill demons before, and he was never this quiet. Usually talked about wanting a drink or to sleep or that he was covered in blood. Sypha spotted the ruins of the Belmont manor, one that constricted her heart in her chest and left her mouth dry. The vampire steered her to the left away from the house and around the back. Immediately, she spotted the tombstones that jutted above the ground, covered in moss and cracks. She read some of the names, while others were too worn to be made out. Alucard guided her through the cemetery, his hand the only reassurance that he was even there. He made no sound nor footsteps. Sypha briefly glanced down at the man's feet. They were floating above the ground, making the man even taller.

  
"I can't touch hallowed ground, and unfortunately, even being excommunicated from the church, the Belmont land still holds God's blessing. Always will, I believe. Holy water runs in their veins and has now seeped into the earth for centuries." Alucard explained, eyes also wandering over the headstones, but still continued to steadily guide the Speaker.  
"Is that why there are so few demons in this region?" Sypha asked quietly.

  
"That would be my guess," The vampire spoke with a thoughtful hum. "Though, it acts more as a warning than a real barrier, with the exception of this cemetery." Sypha noticed piles of rocks. She counted eight piles, seven older ones with grass growing through the bottom layer of stones, and an eighth newer pile atop freshly dug earth. A small oh escaped her mouth. She didn't need any more explaining to understand what happened. And Trevor went through it alone. He didn't say a word about it to her or Alucard. Why would he? Trevor would never tell the vampire, but why didn't he tell her?

  
"How did you know?" Sypha asked, turning to look up at the supernatural man. Alucard remained silent for a moment, hand falling from her shoulder, leaving her suddenly chilled and feeling alone. Like an unanchored boat on the sea or a bird separated from its flock. She shivered, hands, crossed and rubbing at her upper arms.

  
"I watched," Alucard confessed. " Belmont, Trevor, found the demon eating a child." Sypha suddenly wished she had left it be. She didn't want to know anymore, but the words said and unsaid have been shared. Now she carries the story within her—the story of The Last Hunter and a Dead Child.

  
Just how many tales have been buried beneath tan, scarred skin, and drunken smiles? How many lives has Trevor tried to save or came too late, only to bury his failures in unmarked graves? How many has she seen along her journey with her band of Speakers, only thinking it was just a pile of stones?  
Sypha held her hands in front of her, which were visibly shaking. She couldn't get them to stop.

  
"Why didn't you help him? Why didn't you save the kid while Trevor fought?" Sypha whispered, drawing her quivering hands back to her chest, while her eyes never left the new grave.  
"It was too late. She was dead when I arrived, possibly before even Trevor. Besides, he would not have wanted me to interfere." The vampire reasoned quietly and factually. She detected no emotion behind his voice. Alucard felt no anger or sorrow for Trevor or the girl who lost her life too soon.

  
"You should have helped him anyways!" Sypha snapped, turning on the vampire, hands hitting his chest as she tried to hold back her sobs. It wasn't fair, for the girl, for Trevor, for her. Alucard grabbed her wrists, squeezing them almost painfully tight. Sypha tried to pull away, but he refused to release her. She met his eyes and saw that his lips pulled back in a snarl, long canines visible and threatening. Some inner part of her quailed at the sight. Something that said that this was a predator, and she was about to become prey. Alucard seemed to sense the change and immediately released her and floated backward away from her.

  
Closing his eyes, Alucard breathed in and held his breath before releasing it in a massive sigh. "Sorry," he apologized, "You don't seem to understand Sypha. You and I have not seen the bad of this world as long as Belmont has."

  
"I've seen evil. I've fought it." Sypha protested. The snarl made a reappearance on the vampire's face.

  
"If we were to fight Belmont right now, we would not make it out alive. He's a Belmont, born and bred to hunt, to kill." Alucard snapped at her with a growl low in the throat. His hand was clenched tight around his sword. She could hear the leather creak in his grip.

  
"Still, why didn't you help him kill the demon?" Sypha objected, her anger was waning, leaving her tired and wrung out. The wind had also picked up, making her whole body shiver in the night air.

  
"If I tried to help him, he either would have gotten hurt protecting me or just as well destroyed me if I had gotten in the way. I don't have the experience he does. I haven't fought for my life for almost a decade Sypha." Alucard trailed off and began walking back to the Hold. The conversation was over, but she couldn't bring herself to go back inside.

Crouching down in front of the girl's grave, Sypha clasped her trembling hands together and silently sobbed. God, she shouldn't have said any of it. Alucard was right, Trevor could beat her even if she used magic. She just didn't want to see Trevor suffer because she was too weak to help. Sypha wiped the tears from her face with her blue sleeve. This was not the time to cry, she had a job to do.

  
"I'm sorry, I wish Trevor still had all of you. I'm sure he would be a lot happier," Sypha trailed off as she spoke to the piles of rocks, head looking back at the manor's ruins. "That's it." She whispered, shooting to her feet and running back to the Hold. Sypha flung herself over the banister, falling to the bottom of the stairwell with a well-placed spell of air to soften her fall. Flinging the door open, she called out to Alucard. The vampire was back in his seat, reading another book. His blonde hair bounced as he quickly looked up, eyes wide and looking directly at her. She noticed his sword floating, ready for an attack. Something dark slipped through the third landing bookshelves out of the corner of her eye as she stopped in front of Alucard. Looking over, she noticed Trevor as he moved to lean heavily against the railing, watching them in apathy.

  
"So, you told her, wondered if you would," Trevor spoke to Alucard, resting his cheek on his fist. Blue eyes sharp and observing them guardedly. The blood on his face sharpening his features and the scar that ran down his eye. She hadn't seen it until now. Trevor always seemed like a relaxed and happy man, Sypha could now see the hunter in him. She felt like a rabbit about to be killed, heart pounding in fear. Alucard could probably hear her heartbeat. Trevor looked away, and ambled down the staircase, deflating back into his relaxed stance. Something in her eased as soon as he looked away. She recognized it as fear, and Sypha realized she was scared more of Trevor than she was of Alucard. Trevor slunk towards them with the grace of a cat, the black cloak draped over him and sweeping the floor. Flashes of silver shined beneath the briefest opening of the furred coat.  
"So, you noticed me," Alucard responded, his blade sliding back into its sheath. Trevor gave a dark chuckle and a flash of a too feral grin.

  
"It was hard not to. You weren't exactly quiet." The vampire looked affronted but didn't reply to Trevor's statement, only turned back to the book in his hands. Trevor turned to her, and she felt her heart stumble in her chest. "Why were you shouting for fangs?" Belmont questioned her as he pointed his thumb at Alucard. Trevor seemed almost normal again. Sypha thought it might have been her imagination, but Alucard's quick wary glance at Trevor convinced her it was real.

  
"I found something in one of the books," She said and began searching through the piles of books, looking for that little black one. Sypha spotted it in Alucard's collection third from the top. Plucking it straight out of the stack and sending the tomes on top tumbling to the wood floor with hard thumps. The vampire winced at the rough treatment of the records. Sypha whipped around and shoved the black book into Trevor's face. The hunter leaned back to avoid getting hit in the face, hand moving upwards to pull the object downwards away from him.

  
"Okay?" Trevor questioned, eyes flickering to Alucard for answers. The vampire just watched under his curtain of hair.

  
"I've found a spell to fix everything," Sypha explained, opening the little black tome and frantically flipping through the brittle, yellowed pages. She needed to find that spell.

  
"What kind of spell is it?" Trevor asked cautiously. His tone made her pause and look up. Trevor's face was marred with a frown and eyebrows furrowed. His arms were crossed, and his stance was stiff.

  
"It's called The Last Resort. I haven't been able to entirely translate the spell, but from what I've read, it can stop and reverse what has happened to Wallachia." Sypha trailed off as Trevor took a significant step backward, arms falling to his side and onto his metal whip. His face morphed into that hunter look, blue eyes flickering dangerously between her and Alucard. "Trevor?" Eyes snapped to her, and she unconsciously took a step back, hugging the spellbook to her chest in some semblance of safety.

  
"Give me the book Sypha," Trevor demanded, holding his free hand out to her, the cloak slipping away and revealing the Belmont crest. Sypha took her own step back, and Trevor advanced. Alucard stood gracefully, the book levitating and hitting the soft leather chair with a thump. The vampire stepped between Sypha and Trevor. "Move dhampir," Trevor snapped, whip unfurling in a clatter of metal links and hitting the floor with a loud thunk. The threat was unmistakable.

  
"I'm a vampire." Alucard snarled, his body leaning forward and trying to tower over the hunter. Trevor was not phased and glared back.

  
"No, you are a dhampir, a half-breed hybrid. A mix of both things that I hate. Now move before I put you down." Alucard lunged forward, sword snapping upwards and flying towards Trevor. Sypha backed up, her breath caught in her throat as Trevor defended against the vampire, no dhampir. She saw a flash of metal move upwards, the weight springing up and hitting the underside of Alucard's jaw, snapping his snarling mouth shut. With a flick of his wrist, Trevor wrapped the chain around the dazed dhampir's neck and pulled tight. Sypha could hear the hiss of flesh burning and the sound of Alucard choking. The extended floating blade dashed towards the hunter's head and flew past as Trevor leaned his head to the side, embedding itself into the stone floor. It wobbled and tried to release itself, but Alucard was struggling to get the whip from around his burning throat. Trevor turned to her, blue eyes hard as ice and narrowed at her face.

  
"Give me the book Sypha, I won't ask again." He stated, tightening the whip as Alucard struggled harder, feet trying to kick behind and make contact with the hunter.

  
"Why? This spell could fix everything." She protested weakly, taking another step back—that fear growing behind her rabbit heart.

  
"It won't fix anything, Sypha. It will just destroy everything. Last Resort is a destruction spell designed to eradicate every living and non-living creature upon this earth," Trevor shouted, releasing the dhampir with a feral snarl. Alucard slumped to the ground, holding his throat with his hands, coughing and gasping for air. The stench of burned flesh heavy in the air. Trevor began stalking towards Sypha. Something fluttered in her chest, beating back the fear that enshrouded her.

  
"It's not a destruction spell!" Sypha screeched back, "It's a reversal spell made for you. It was designed for you, Trevor Belmont." She finished, leaving her breathless and gasping for breath. Trevor had frozen in place, a strange conflicted look on his face. Like he was trying to say something but couldn't bring himself to do so. The hunter looked back at the recovering dhampir then back at her. Something seemed to give in Trevor. His shoulders slumped, and Sypha thought he aged decades at that moment.

  
"You shouldn't have found it, Sypha. It's a destruction spell, not a reversal. It may seem like it, but trust me, it's not." Trevor whispered, cloak hiding his body and whip discarded on the floor. He could not meet her or Alucard's gaze.

  
"Then what does it do?" She asked, tentatively taking a step towards the hunter, who retreated at her action. Alucard got up, leaving a large gap between himself and the hunter, one hand still remaining on his throat. She couldn't see the damage, but it must have been bad if the dhampir acted this way. He hadn't said a single word yet.

  
Trevor hunched even farther on himself. She could see his arms shift and move under the black cloak. "It removes any evidence of Belmont from the earth. If the spell was enacted, then I would be torn apart until nothing was left. The Hold would be swallowed up, and any memories of Belmont would be erased from history. Belmont would cease to exist." Trevor explained, voice raw and distraught. Sypha looked at the harmless book in her hand. That wasn't what she had translated from the spell, but maybe she did it wrong.

  
"Okay, I 'm sorry I brought it up. I won't try the spell." She promised. Trevor looked at her, a wan smile briefly flittered across his face before returning to a look of exhaustion. Scratching a bloody hand through his hair, Trevor sighed and retreated from the Hold without a word. He left his metal whip lying innocently where it was discarded. Sypha watched as his back disappeared up the stairs and out the door. She turned to the injured dhampir.

  
"Alucard, are you alright?"

  
"I'll be fine," He responded, hand dropping from his neck and revealing the pink outline of chain links circling his throat. The flesh was blistering and raw. It looked painful. "I say we give another look at that spell while we can. It might be something that we need if the locating and locking spells don't work." Alucard suggested, proceeding to remove his sword from the floor with a hard pull. Sypha nodded and opened the book to the dog-eared page. The spell was intricate and required the blood of a Belmont. The seal array produced by the spell would cover the entirety of the Hold, maybe more. Runes were to be painted on the individual, it was cast on, using the Belmont blood. Sypha wasn't sure she could do this. The spell was well beyond her abilities. Alucard hovered over her, a calming, steady presence.

  
"I don't think I could do this." She said to the dhampir, twisting a lock of her hair before abruptly stopping herself. Instead, she chewed the nail of her thumb and stared at the spell inked onto the spread of yellowed paper. Another hand came up and traced the collum of words on the left page along the right side of the sheet. Sypha looked towards the dhampir, who soundlessly mouthed the words as a furrow developed along his forehead.

  
"You said this was made for Belmont?" He asked, eyes moving from the page to her.

  
"Yeah, here," Sypha said, pointing to the lower half of the text. There written in dark, bold, cursive letters was the name, Trevor Belmont.

  
"Are you positive it's for Belmont? There have probably been a dozen other Trevors in his family line." Alucard questioned, finger brushing over the name a few times.

  
"I'm positive. This last part is dedicated to Trevor, our Trevor. I'll read it to you.

_To the last hunter of our line, the final defense against the evil and dark forces of the world. Trevor Belmont, should the world succumb to lifelessness and chaos, should your soul be in turmoil, should injuries lead to death, this spell shall reverse. Take heed, for this is a spell used only once, and that is why it is your Last Resort._

See, this is for Trevor." Sypha said, wholly convinced. Alucard looked at her and then back to the book a few times.

  
"Okay, so this is for Belmont, but as you read, this can only be used once, and he should decide when to use it. However, what Belmont says about it being a destruction spell seems to be correct too," Alucard remarked. Sypha let out a small huh, eyes turning back to the book and searching for answers.

  
"Here," Alucard pointed with his pointer at a series of runes drawn for the spell. "These are for destruction, elimination, and death," His hand moved to another set of runes, speaking the meaning of each one, "Removal, reversal, time, stability, memory, protection and life." Alucard removed his hand from the page and stood patiently as Sypha tried to comprehend the runes. She handed the book to the dhampir and begun to pace along the floor.

  
"That doesn't make any sense. Many of those would counteract the other, leaving the spell nulled. Maybe the incantations change the meanings?" Sypha muttered, snatching the book from Alucard's hands. She stopped in her tracks. The incantation was even worse. The darkness of heaven and the light of hell? Fire birthed from water?

  
"What the hell?" Sypha snapped, throwing the book away from her. "It makes even less sense than the runes." She wanted to understand, but it seemed impossible. The black tome landed spine up, pages bent underneath. She should have felt bad for treating Trevor's ancient text like that, but exhaustion and anger pulled at her mind. Alucard gave her a long look before moving to pick up the book from where it had landed. Gently, the dhampir fixed the bent pages and replaced the book back onto his pile.

  
"Get some rest, Sypha, I'll keep looking. You need to sleep." Alucard suggested. He was probably right. Sypha nodded and curled up into her leather seat. She nodded off to the soft rustling of paper and the smell of old leather.

***

Trevor washed the blood off his face and hands in the chilly stream. He scrubbed using the sand buried beneath the pebbles and stones until his hands were red and raw. Stripping down to his trousers, he cleaned his torn bloody shirt and cloak, wringing the water from the fabric and hanging them from branches to dry. His sides ached where the demon pinned him in place with its claws. Five puncture wounds about the width of his thumb dug deep into the flesh on both sides. A few were bleeding sluggishly from Alucard's attempt to attack him. Trevor scoffed, remembering the dhampir. He left himself wide open. Alucard probably didn't expect him to react fast enough in such close quarters. He's fought in tighter spaces and come out on top.

  
Trevor had to admit that both of them did have the power, but they lacked the experience that he had. He also knew their weaknesses. Sypha could only focus so much with her magic, and if she spread herself too thin, it left her open and vulnerable. She also avoided close quarters as much as possible, preferring to kill from a distance because of her lack of hand to hand and weapons combat knowledge. Alucard was the opposite. He focused too much on one enemy, either getting himself surrounded or stabbed from behind. The very same reason he was able to subdue him so quickly in the Hold. Alucard disregarded Morning Star that was resting on the floor. He also relies too much on his vampire side when fighting. It wasn't only him that carried blessed weapons in this fucked up world.

Sighing, Trevor cradled his injured left-hand side and continued to stand there in the cold stream. His bare feet numb and chilled to the bone dug into the sand and pebbles. Trevor wasn't sure what to do now. Sypha had found Last Resort. He should have burned the book a long time ago, but he just couldn't. When he was done with this world, he planned on using it, erase the Belmonts entirely. He indeed would be the very last and the one to bring the castle down.  
Stepping out of the water, Trevor pulled his leather boots back on and did a final wring to his shirt and cloak before donning those as well. Giving a small shiver at the feel of cold, damp clothes, he hunched his shoulders and made his way back to the Hold.

  
Slipping through the hearthstone, Trevor loitered at the top of the stairwell, staring down into the dark depths of hidden knowledge and bloodshed.

  
"Are you coming down?" A voice floated up from the bottom. Trevor spotted a pair of golden eyes peering up at him, shining brightly in the dark.

  
"What do you want, fangs?" He asked, leaning even more against the banister. God, he was so tired. Those eyes continued to stare, boring deep into his blackened and bloodied soul.  
"Sypha is resting, so should you." The dhampir suggested. Trevor ran his hand through his hair and scratching furiously at his scalp.

  
"Probably," Trevor muttered as he began his descent back into the depth of the Hold. Adrian watched silently at the bottom, eyes never straying from Trevor's form. Trevor held his left side, it still felt tender and was worse off than his right. The demon might have punctured something, damn it. He took the stairs slowly, trying to keep the jolting to the minimum, as each step pulled on the wounds.

  
"You're hurt," Adrian spoke as Trevor approached.

  
"Very observant of you. What gave it away?" Trevor snapped, brushing past the dhampir into the Hold. Fuck. He shouldn't have said that. Trevor felt Alucard move behind him, steps light, almost floating. Neither said anything as they descended towards the ground floor. Trevor stopped at the final staircase, dredging up any last courage that he had to keep going. He was so tired. Why couldn't God let him rest? Alucard was hovering behind his shoulder, gaze hot, and intent on the back of his head. It's not like going any deeper should be that difficult. Damn it. Trevor took a step, the boot making a loud thud and a click of the heel on the old wood. The next was softer and softer and softer until there was no sound at all. He spotted Morning Star, where he had abandoned it earlier. With one eye latched onto the sleeping Speaker, Trevor sidled over to the blessed weapon and picked it up. The metal softly clinked together in a shower of silver.

  
One last glance to the others, Trevor moved away and deeper into the shelves. His whole body was beginning to ache, deep down to his very bones, just like when his father complained about the oncoming rain. Only this time it wasn't rain that was coming. He needed more gear, more weapons. Trevor had seen a long sword around here. There. Nestled in the middle of a weapons rack sat the sword in its blood-red sheath. Various other swords sat beside this one, but Trevor knew this sword and knew its history. Leon Belmont's blade. The man was the first of the Belmont's to wield it, and now he was the last who will. Lifting the sword from its place, Trevor strapped it to his right side. He gazed at the other blades but left them where they lay. Moving over to the throwing knives, he added a few more across his chest, slipped a few into his boots, and up his arm leather guards. It never hurt to carry more weapons. There were vials of holy water in a glass cabinet behind him. A couple went into a hip pouch, along with dried bundles of wolfsbane. Trevor's fingers brushed cold metal. Drawing the object out, he caressed the tarnished and scratched metal of the Belmont family ring. His mother was wearing it that night. It's the only personal item he took. Trevor remembered crying over the damn thing for days, but he couldn't bring himself to toss it. He's always been told that the head hunter of the Belmonts wore the ring. Trevor owed it to his mother to at least carry the burden of the head hunter title, even if he wasn't. A floorboard moved. Trevor twirled around, blade taken from the rack, and unsheathed in a second. It rested lightly at the base of Sypha's throat.

  
"Trevor!" She squeaked. He watched her gulp, bobbing up and down, and eyes wide.

  
"Sypha, you should be resting. What?" He said, putting the blade back where it belonged. Trevor watched her clutch a book tighter, fingers ghostly white.  
"I have something," Sypha said, moving back onto the second floor.

  
"Uh, when I say 'what,' that doesn't mean 'I would like to ask more questions.'" Trevor snapped, following the Speaker up the stairs. He tossed his cloak over the leather chair as he passed it. Sypha mumbled under her breath, vaguely sounding like an insult. He chooses to ignore it.

  
"I think I've found a locking spell," She opened the book and began turning pages, "Wait. Listen." Sypha said, stopping at a pile of books pushed against one of the bookshelves. Trevor spotted Alucard moving towards them from one of the higher shelves. "Your family has an entire literature here about the castle. They tried for centuries to eliminate its main advantage, it transports itself through magical means."

  
"Right. So you can't attack it if it jumps somewhere else." Trevor summarized, waving his hand to get her to the point. Sypha pointed at him with her finger, a small excited smile on her face. She seemed happy that he was participating in the conversation.

  
"Yes. So some clever Belmont eventually formulated most of a locking spell. A method to catch the castle and lock it down to a single location so that it can be invaded." Sypha explained. Glancing up, Trevor spotted Alucard above them. The dhampir was leaning against the railing with a hand held to his chin in thought.

  
"Most of it?" Alucard questioned, turning to the pair. Sypha turned back to the book.

  
"I can finish the final clauses of it myself. It's all based on Adamical structures."

  
"You keep saying that word," Alucard stated, moving to climb down the bookshelf ladder. His black coat giving a snap as he turned. Trevor pushed away from the railing, trying to alleviate the stitch in his left side.

  
"Adamic is the original human language. The one spoken by Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. The one that was split into all other languages at the Towel of Babel by God to prevent human cooperation."

  
"Is that how you understand that story?" Alucard asked as he approached, the lisp of a smile upon his face.

  
"Oh, yes. The speakers are the enemy of God. We live in cooperation and hide our stories inside ourselves, so he cannot strike them down in jealousy." Trevor sighed as the ground began to shake, and a resounding thud echoed in the large Hold. He could hear plates rattle and shatter onto the stone floor. "See? God hates me," Sypha stated, pointing to the ceiling with a furrow in her brow. The whole Hold continued to rumble and shudder. More and more things shattered, and dust was shaken from the rafters. Trevor reached for Morning Star as he watched as the hanging remains of the White Dragon rocked violently back and forth. He could hear snarls and growls over the noise.  
"That's probably not God," Alucard spoke, gold eyes staring upwards before glancing at Sypha.

  
Another thud and a responding tremble echoed in the Hold. Sypha began collecting her stack of books. Trevor grabbed the remaining few and followed the Speaker's heels. Alucard vanished into the bookshelves in a twirl of black and gold. He gave the dhampir one last glance up the stairs before dumping the tomes at the base of the lectern. Trevor began to pace. He was starting to feel an itch beneath his skin, crawling with a need. Alucard was moving something between the shelves, it was the broken magic mirror. Trevor turned to the others.  
"Can we get that magic mirror working?" He asked, stalking towards Sypha. She was standing by the lectern, with the spellbook in her hand. Trevor spotted that damn black book tucked under the reference tome on the stand. Fuck. Was she really going to do it? He should burn it.

  
"I can do it. But I can't do two things at once here," Sypha said as Alucard placed the full-length mirror down, leaning it against the nearest bookshelf.

  
"I know some Chaldaic. I know how to operate a distance mirror. Which shall I do?" The dhampir asked, turning to Trevor and Sypha.

  
"I can't do either of those things," Trevor said, glancing between the two.

  
"Come on, Belmont," Alucard snapped, stalking towards Trevor and standing in front of him. "Time to choose. You are either the last son of a warrior dynasty or a lucky drunk. Which is it?" The dhampir questioned in a snarl, flashing his ivory fangs. A dead man walking. Trevor bit his tongue from snapping out.

Another rumble shook the Hold. Trevor stared at the man for a long moment, trying to understand what he sees in him. He then looked upwards, watching as pieces of rock and dust tumbled down before turning to Alucard with a hum.  
"Okay. Get the mirror working, Alucard. Get me force numbers, species, and weapons count," Trevor ordered, "Sypha stays on her job for now. I'll fortify the point of entry." He finished, moving to the stairs as Alucard began removing his leather gloves and faced the mirror. Trevor heard the scrape of metal as he adjusted Leon's blade. The Hold gave another great tremble as the beasts hammered at the hearthstone.

  
"I think we are going to see the size and disposition of the attacking force fairly quickly with our own eyes, Belmont." Alucard quipped as he gripped the frame of the mirror tighter.  
"I'm forced to agree. Do you have a further suggestion?" Trevor asked as he approached the stairs. He was starting to hate them. _Too many steps_.

  
"Are you asking my advice?" The dhampir asked. Trevor could hear the skepticism. He stopped, turned, and moved towards the man.

  
"We're working together, Alucard," Trevor responded, "You're still a bastard, but you're the bastard that I choose to work alongside back in Gresit. Do you have a problem with any of that?" He watched as Alucard frowned at the insult before it morphed into a smirk.

  
"None at all."

  
"So, what do you suggest?" Trevor asked again. He held his hands away from his sides in a half shrug.

  
"Using this to find Dracula's castle. Now," Alucard said, turning back to the broken mirror, "we're trapped in a box down here. We will eventually be overwhelmed unless we changed the nature of this battle." The trembles became faster and faster. Trevor pushed back the top of the red half kilt to grasp the handle of Morning Star. Trevor verbally agreed and turned to the Speaker and called out her name.

  
"I'm close to getting it." She exclaimed, not looking away from her work.

  
"I'll protect you for as long as I can." He tried reassuring her. She gave Trevor a strange look and whispered, 'I know.' before turning her back on him. The Hold gave another ominous rumble, harder than the ones before. Trevor sprinted up a couple of flights of stairs until he was close enough to use Morning Star to swing upwards onto one of the walkways above him. He whirled under and upwards, backflipping onto the wooden catwalk. Running, the floor buckled and swayed under his feet as the Hold shook, tossing him off the walkway through the broken railing. Trevors hand snapped out and snatched the top of the fence, pulling at the wounds on his sides. He dangles there several stories above the hard stone floor at the bottom. Sypha was climbing up a set of stairs, and Alucard was righting the distance mirror from where it had tipped over. Reaching backward, Trevor swung himself back onto the walkway with a grunt, twisting and landing on his feet.

  
Moving around, he made it to the Holds stairwell entrance, freezing there at the door. He needed to barricade it. Glancing around, he spotted a set of bookshelves and sprinted over. Ripping one of the wooden shelving from its place, Trevor tried to lock the door. Shit. There was no place to put the board on or even a lock on the door. Why didn't they put a lock on it? Leaning the wood slab against the door, it slid down as the door slowly creaked open. Fuck. Giving a sigh, Trevor stepped out into the stairwell, slamming the door behind him. He gave it one final glance to see if he could lock it from the outside—no such luck.

  
Starting his run up the long stairwell, he could hear the thuds of demons and night creatures above him. There was also the scratch of claws on stone. One, two, three, four. No five. His blood pounded his ears and legs burned as he climbed.

  
About halfway up, the stairs violently shook, and he had to grab the railing to keep his balance. Glancing upwards, he watched as the floating walkways were reduced to splinters.  
"Oh, for God's sake." He panted, as the catwalk directly above him broke open, revealing a Minotaur lunging towards him with a growl. Trevor twisted onto the floor, landing as the creature crashed onto the stairs. The wood buckled and snapped under its weight. The Minotaur was massive, larger than any he had seen or fought before. He lost the floor beneath him, sending him into free fall. Trevor pulled Morning Star out and whipped around one of the support beams sticking out of the wall. He watched as the Minotaur continued to smash through the stairwell until it stopped one level before the bottom. At least it got rid of the God-forsaken stairs. Trevor twisted and spun on the whip, unsheathing his long sword, and released the metal weapon from its grip above.

  
Falling with the rattle of chains in his ears, Trevor watched as the creature glared up at him with glowing blue eyes and a snarl on his face. Pointing the tip of the blade down, he bounced off the horn as the Minotaur moved. Using the trailing chain behind him, Trevor caught the tail end of the whip and swung himself up with a grunt onto the creature's neck. Replacing Morning Star back into its holder, he wrapped his hand around the red fabric of his half kilt and grabbed the sword. Trevor began sawing at the hairy hide, warm blood spurting out and covering his hands. It howled in pain. The Minotaur started to swing around, trying to shake him off. Moving backward and slamming Trevor into the intact wooden banister, he grunted in pain as ribs cracked and broke, leaving him winded and trying to breathe. His hands released the sword, and swung into the stone wall opposite, Trevor landed in a pile of broken wood with a groan. Fuck. It hurt to breathe.

  
The creature stalked towards him, lifting its hairy fists high above its head. Standing up, he ducked and rolled under the sizeable approaching fists. It slammed into the walkway with a thud. Trevor pulled out a throwing knife, tossing toward the sword embedded in the creature's neck, and knocked it partially loose, releasing a spurt of blood. The Minotaur turned to him, falling onto its hands and knees as the walkway collapsed. Trevor and the creature fell to the bottom in a clatter of wood and debris. The sword slipped from the straightening Minotaur, which tried to crush him again. He lept over the fist and lunged for the falling blade. His hand twisted down, grabbing the red handle and slicing the Achilles upon the creature, severing muscles and tendons. It wasn't going to be getting up again as red flowed quickly, turning into a vast, bloody lake and soaking his boots in blood.

  
Trevor breathed as he listened to the Minotaur collapse onto the blood-covered stone floor. His ribs hurt, some were definitely broken. Something moved above him. He looked up and gasped as an Oni Magician descended with its pointed staff aimed for him. Stumbling backward, Trevor fell onto his ass as the stave slammed into the floor, piercing the layer of blood, and the Oni kicked him directly in the chest. Above, he could see two fire drakes and a crow witch malphas moving down the broken stairwell. Shit. The Oni attacked with the stick, nearly taking his head off. Doing a backward roll onto his feet, Trevor parried the staff with his sword. Sliding the sword along the stave, he tried to behead the demon only to get his hand cut and lose his sword in the process. The blade sailed away and landed in the blood with a splash and a clang. Taking advantage, the Oni pressed forward, pushing him to the defense and using his armguards to redirect the blows. The wood stung on impact, and bones in his arms ached at the rattling force. He got enough space between him and the demon to pull out Morning Star and attack. The weight and chain slid off the staff and behind the beast. It lunged forward, trying to pierce his body. Wrapping the whip around the stave, Trevor got close enough to backhand the Oni in the face with the handle of the Morning Star. He stepped on the chain, snapping the weight upward to wrap around the staff and the right side limbs. Using his foot, he pushed the monster onto it's back with a tidal wave of blood.

Scuttling above him drew his attention as one of the firedrakes lunged. It's gizzard expanding and glowing with an inner fire. "Just what I need in an underground hold full of paper," Trevor whispered with a gasp. His lungs were burning, and the creature beneath him trying to fight free. Pulling the Oni demon upwards, he punched it away, dropping its staff onto the crimson floor. Winding Morning Star up and around, Trevor watched the ballast fly, catching flame within the drake's presence. The weight slammed into the creature's gaping maw. It began to bubble and expand rapidly from the inside, glowing brighter and brighter until the creature exploded into a ball of flame that grew bigger and bigger. Shit. Trevor grunted as the force of the explosion sent him through the Hold's solid wood door, splintering into thousands of pieces. Sitting up on the floor, which was splattered now with warmed monster blood, Trevor raked a hand through his hair and gazed back into the Hold's stairwell.

  
"Probably just as well that I didn't get to play with the whip when I was a kid," Trevor spoke, looking back for a moment to check on Sypha and Alucard. Both were frantically working, talking to each other with nary a glance in his direction. The sound of splashing liquid drew his attention back to the doorway as the Oni demon flew in, staff in hand and sharp teeth bared in a snarl. Reaching for the handle of his whip, Trevor nearly got his hand impaled by the staff's pointed end, pulling back just enough to avoid it. Going for Morning Star again ended in the same result with the demon flinging the handle away and under the guardrail. Both Trevor and Oni watched as the weapon twisted and rattled until it was gone and out of sight. Fuck. With a growl, the creature turned back to him, as he twisted and kicked his feet out in a spin, knocking the staff away, kicking the demon in the face and wrapping his legs around the stick. With a sharp squeeze and a twist, he snapped the weapon in half, snatching the pointed ends from the air as they sailed past. Lunging upwards as the demon righted itself, Trevor stabbed the stake into its abdomen, pushing upwards under the ribcage, piercing its heart and out the other side. The Oni groaned in pain, blood gushing from the wound and its mouth, dying upon its own weapon.

  
"When you get back to whatever steaming underworld shithole you came from, you tell them there are still Belmonts up here," Trevor warned as the Oni gave one last defiant snarl at hearing his name. Yanking the makeshift stake out, he watched at the creature wavered then collapsed onto the floor, watery blood pooling across the tile as it landed with a squelch.  
It was quiet for a brief moment before the beating of wings caught his attention. Grabbing two throwing knives, without making any sudden movement, he waited, listening as the monster drew near. With a sharp spin on his heel, he threw the blades, whistling through the air towards the flying demon. The Malphas ducked and dodged the blades with steady beats of its wings. It hit Trevor with the force of its full body, knocking him over the railing. Snatching the creature's ankle, he hit another catwalk railing, releasing the demon and rolling to land onto the wood of the walkway.

Standing up, Trevor watched as the Crow Witch Malphas dropped before him, wings falling onto its shoulders like a particularly feathery cloak. Adjusting the broken pieces of the staff with a twirl, the hunter lunged for the night creature, repeatedly striking across the bone mask shaped like a bird skull. It took every blow in stride, withdrawing every few hits. He began gasping for breath. The creature was trying to wear him out. It began dodging his swings and quickly unfurled its crow wings with a hard flap, knocking Trevor backward and over the railing again. Swinging out, he righted himself with one of the staff pieces on a strut sticking out below the catwalk and dropping onto another one not far below. He landed with a grunt, body protesting with every movement. Trevor was so done with this. After this, he was going on vacation, a long one, probably forever.

Looking upwards, he lost sight of the Malphas and began searching around for any sign around him. Behind, the flutter of wings approached. With arms outstretched towards him, Trevor swung the heavier staff piece, its round blunted end swinging up, around and down onto the creature's face. He could hear the bones crack and splinter, while they gave out under the force of the wood. The demon tumbled and rolled along the catwalk, coming to a stop just before the bookshelves. Not wasting such an opportunity, Trevor sprinted for the monster, watching as it began to stand. It blocked his swings, arms crossed, and wings pulled in. Trevor gasped for air, spotting the broken bone, revealing a broad set of human teeth and flesh beneath. With a bird-like growl, it grabbed the staff piece, falling backward and kicking Trevor up and over itself, throwing him into the bookshelf directly before them. He grunted as his body impacted the wood, broken flesh and ribs jarred, and protesting weakly. Flashes of pain that sharpened his senses. Spitting out a glob of blood and spit, Trevor rushed the Malphas again. They danced around each other, him attacking while it defended. Once, twice around on the catwalk. It rushed him. Trevor using the railing, backflipped over the gliding creature. The Malphas dropped into a hunched position, hiding its body underneath its wings. Trevor shoved the staff pieces into a small opening near the shoulders, pushing through its defense and swiping outward, throwing its arms and wings wide, leaving its body wide open. He attacked again, hitting it repeatedly over the face until the bone gave beneath his attacks. Underneath was a faceless human skull covered in muscle that grinned back at him with a growl. Twirling the wood, Trevor thrust upwards below the unprotected jaw, into the brain and out the top of the skull. The Malphas fell over the edge of the catwalk, disappearing to land below while the second firedrake took its place. This one was bigger than the other, older, and more experienced. Trevor gave a tired smirk. Why did God hate him so?

  
"You're an evil-looking bastard, aren't you," he told the growling firedrake. Giving a sigh, he pulled himself up taller. "Well, I am armed with a stick, hmm?" Trevor said sarcastically, waving his free hand around, "So I'll understand if you want to run away now." Please just go away. Trevor retreated as the firedrake snarled and leaped towards him. Movement on the floor below drew his attention for a moment. Sypha, in her eye-catching blue robes, was running through the bookshelves, turning a corner and quickly kneeling beside a pile of books. He watched as she frantically flipped through its pages. The hunter wasn't the only one to have noticed either. The firedrake swayed back and forth on its haunches, bunching corded muscle in preparation to jump. Trevor lunged forward to distract the creature, startling it to move backward. Keeping on eye on the Speaker, he watched as she picked up a book and slips of loose paper. Sypha slipped out from between the bookshelves, looking around in all directions. The drake lunged over the side of the railing as Sypha began to run. Shit. Trevor watched as it landed before her, halting her progress back to the lectern.

  
Taking a running leap, Trevor jumped over the side and threw himself feet first into the monster's side, tossing the creature in a set of bookcases, crushing wood and books beneath its weight. Fuck. His dad would have killed him if he was alive to see this. Trevor lunged after the drake, hearing Sypha dash away behind him. The creature hissed, elongated fangs dripping with saliva. He was about to do something idiotic. Trevor taunted the demon, waving his hand in a come get me motion. It responded in kind. Leaping for his throat, Trevor rolled away as it crushed another bookshelf. The hairs along his arms and against his neck stood on end. He could feel the magic in the air. Sypha was performing the spell, dense and full of intent, like invisible chains threatening to send him to the floor. The firedrake swept his tail around going for his legs, he dodged only to realize it was a feint. Trevor got needle-like teeth piercing his upper arm for his mistake, cutting through flesh and scraping bone. He bit his tongue to keep from crying out. No need to distract Sypha. Blood pooled in his mouth as he smashed the hinge joint of its jaw with the stick. Bone cracked under the force, forcing the monster to release his arm. The creature hissed and lunged again, hungry for more of his blood. Trevor dodged adequately this time, watching as it smashed through the railing and began to plummet to the bottom floor.

  
"Shit." He muttered, spotting his Morning Star where it lay upon the ground. Alucard below him was looking up in horror, hand moving to draw his sword from its sheath. Trevor pulled back as hard as he could with his only working arm and sent the weighted iron flying. The end catching flame as it neared the falling firedrake. It stuck along its back, slicing the creature in two, before it burst into a giant ball of fire, much like the first one. Trevor sighed and dropped to a knee, trying to finally even his breathing.

***

Sypha struggled with pulling the castle towards them. Blue magic crackling between her fingertips. She could feel eyes on her, not just Alucard's and Trevor's, but something else as well. Something older. Something angry.

  
"Do as your told," She hissed yanking on the connection. The castle jumped once, then twice, and again and again, fighting her every step of the way. She felt the castle's engine begin to give before her connection abruptly cut off. Sending her reeling back with a pained grunt as she watched in horror as the castle jumped one final time. Her hands were burned from the backlash and stung horribly. They shook with minute tremors and the flesh a bright red. The mirror changed scenes, revealing the looming castle nestled atop a mountain covered in snow.

  
"No, no, no, no, no," Sypha whispered, lunging towards the mirror, burned fingers valiantly trying to grab the silver frame as hard as she could.

  
"What happened?" Alucard asked, coming to stand at her elbow, gloved hands reaching out to hover over her injured left hand.

  
"He, he cut the connection. I couldn't pull the castle here," Sypha whispered. She gave a frustrated scream, raising her hand to smash the mirror. "I was so damn close too." A hand caught her own. She looked up, followed the tan hand covered in blood, up the arm, and towards Trevor's tired and pale face. He gave her a small reassuring smile.

  
"It's okay, Sypha, you did your best. Let's bandage your hands and come up with a plan to get to Dracula's castle, okay?" Trevor suggested with a slight wheeze in his breath, gently tugging her away from the mirror. She followed the bloodied hunter as he guided her to sit down on one of the leather chairs.

  
"Stay here," Trevor ordered, before disappearing into the Hold, quiet as a ghost. Sypha stared at her red, burned hands. They stung, but the feeling of failure burning in her chest hurt more. She couldn't believe that they couldn't do it, especially when she was so close too. Her eyes tingled, tears threatening to fall. Sypha stifled a sob, hands coming up to cover her face as the tears broke free, falling and stinging her burned hands.

  
"Sypha," Alucard started but trailed off, placing his hand upon her shoulder. She took comfort in his silent presence. Trevor reappeared, bringing back that strong metallic smell of blood. Peaking through her fingers, Sypha spotted drops of red that followed the hunter back from his path within the Hold. His left arm hung limp at his side, steadily dripping blood from motionless fingertips. Trevor kneeled before her, hold an assortment of medicines and cloth close to his chest. Sypha watched as he carefully set the objects onto the stack of books piled next to the chair. He placed a soft cloth across her knees and gently pulled her burned hands to rest upon the silky material. She ran her fingertips across the fabric, having never felt anything quite like it before. It shimmered under the light and had a fish scale or snake-like pattern almost unseen across its surface, the pale gold pattern partially hidden against the cream fabric. Alucard leaned in to scrutinize the cloth as well, curiosity evident in his eyes.

  
"It's Naga skin," Trevor explained without looking up from a clay jar he was trying to open with one hand. Sypha startled, almost throwing the skin from her lap, but refrained from a sharp look from Trevor. "My mother killed it before it devoured all the children in a remote eastern town. They gave her its skin and bones as payment."

  
"Why just the skin and bones?" The dhampir questioned, turning to face the kneeling hunter.

  
"Those are the most valuable parts of a Naga, both have incredible healing properties." Trevor showed them the opened clay jar, filled with a white paste that shimmered the same as the skin laid across her lap. "The people knew that her job as a hunter was dangerous and life-threatening. They just wanted to give her a chance to survive another day, a small repayment for saving their lives," Trevor finished in a whisper, carefully dipping his fingers into the white paste and gently spreading it over her burned hands. It was ice cold, possibly colder, sharp, and cutting to the bone. Sypha stifled a hiss between her clenched teeth. The hunter gave a quiet apology, before wrapping her hands in regular cloth strips and covering them in the vast swath of Naga skin. Her hands went from bitter cold to pleasantly warm, drawing a small oh from her lips. It felt nice, like curling up beside a friendly fire on a cold night.

  
"Stay," Trevor ordered before standing up, only to sway on his feet and let out a string of curses. Alucard reached out to steady Trevor, but the hunter stepped away from the man's reach. He began pulling at buckles and clasps that held his weapons and armor in place, dropping them carelessly onto the floor. She watched in mild worry as Trevor struggled with his shirt, breath coming out in ragged pants as he stood there, eyes clenched shut with the shirt only half-way off. With a sharp inhale, Trevor yanked the fabric the rest of the way off his body, ultimately revealing the myriad of bruises that covered his torso, spots already darker than others, particularly around the ribs. The ribs were sunken in some places and seemed to shift and bend as he breathed. Sypha had seen this on others before. Broken bones that freely floated in the chest, causing extreme pain to the injured person. Many would-be crying or passed out from the pain. Trevor did not seem to register the pain at all as he bent to lift the jar of Naga paste from its resting place atop the pile of books. With a less tender hand, Trevor smeared the medicine across his ribs, leaving broad white bands across his chest. It reminded Sypha of those stories her Grandfather had told her of warriors that painted their skin various colors before a battle. Something substantial settled in her chest at the thought that there was no rest for Trevor that he continuously fought despite his wounds. And now he would need to do so again as they would need to travel to Dracula's castle to kill the vampire.

  
Once Trevor completed covering his torso with the paste, he dropped the empty jar onto the book pile. They watched as it wobbled and fell from the stack. Alucard snapped out and grabbed the pot before it shattered upon the floor and gently replaced it within its spot. Trevor wiped his hands upon a rough cloth cleaning the paste from his fingers before reaching for a tall brown bottle sitting beside a clean set of bandages. With a steady hand, he pulled the cap of the bottle out with his teeth and poured its contents onto his wounded arm. Sypha started in alarm as the blood from the wound began to hiss and boil upon his arm, bubbling and releasing black smoke that smelled of tar.

  
"Trevor," she called out frightened, preparing to leap to her feet to help. What had he just done? Alucard looked alarmed as well, quickly grabbing a clean cloth and rapidly approaching the hunter.

  
"Stay, Sypha," Trevor snapped, again stepping away from the dhampir, "You too, fangs. It's fine. This is what is supposed to happen." He vaguely explained, turning to watch as the hissing petered out and left clean, bloodless wounds. Trevor set the bottle down and began tightly wrapping his wounded arm with a deft hand. Sypha recognized the signs that he had done this numerous times before, all by himself.

  
"What is it?" Alucard snapped with a small snarl, brows furrowed as he remained in place, gloved hands holding the cloth tightly. Trevor gave a light-hearted huff, seemingly amused with their reactions.

  
"Its ichor."

  
"Blood from a God?" The dhampir questioned incredulously. Trevor snorted and rolled his eyes.

  
"No, its putrified Siren blood. When it comes in contact with drake saliva, it cleanses the wound and prevents rot. A creature of the sea defeats a creature of fire." The hunter explained vaguely. The dhampir opened his mouth to protest, but no words ever came.

  
"How do you know all this?" Sypha wondered aloud, looking down at her wrapped hands enshrouded in smooth Naga skin, before turning to the hunter for an answer. Trevor didn't answer, only raised an eyebrow at her question. Sypha felt her cheeks heat up. Of course, he would know, he's a monster hunter. It's in his blood. "What do we do now?" Trevor sighed and ran his hand through his hair, streaking drying blood across his scalp.

  
"Just rest up for now." He answered tightly as he pulled his bloodied tunic back on and disappeared among the shelves again. Sypha sighed and leaned over to rest her face on the silky skin. It was warm and cold all at once, waking and soothing her to sleep at the same instant. Her wandering eyes caught sight of that little black book.

  
"Alucard, do you think," She started, not moving from her position. The dhampir moved, leather creaking as he sat beside her on the other chair.

  
"That is up to Belmont. It's his choice." She clenched her hands tightly together, causing her skin to ache. It hurt.

  
"He won't make that choice for himself. Trevor would rather die than use the spell." Sypha protested, sitting up to face the man. He looked at her with this knowing look on his face, the same look he gave Sypha in the graveyard above. She felt like a child, ignorant and naive, under his gaze.

  
"That is his choice, Sypha." Alucard reiterated again, harsher and lower in tone this time. His fangs flashed under the firelight.

  
"This could save him. He's going to die if we don't." Sypha snapped, her voice breaking off at the end. Trevor didn't deserve that kind of end.

  
"You've already said that," Alucard hissed, "Give me another reason." Sypha struggled to come up with a coherent reason. Her chest tight with panic, trying to put her indescribable feelings into words.

  
"I, if," Sypha sighed, taking a deep breath to calm herself, "If anyone deserves a second chance, its Trevor. He deserves to finally rest and not fight every second of his life. He deserves a better childhood, a longer one." She finished, daring the dhampir to contradict her. Alucard sighed and brushed his golden wavy hair over his shoulder.

  
"Alright, can you do it with your hands the way they are?" He asked, getting up to pull the black spellbook from its place partially hidden under the logbook on the podium. Alucard held it out to her. She pulled her hands out of the Naga skin, and tenderly grabbed the book. Opening the spellbook, she turned to the Last Resort Spell. It's complicated seal array, and rune matrix was already beginning to daunt her, but the image of Trevor being hurt. His wound bubbling and boiling his blood and dark bruising across his entire torso. He didn't deserve that pain, both physical and emotional pain.

  
"I can do it," Sypha reassured the dhampir, standing up from the chair. She began moving the seats away, clearing the vast area around the podium. Grabbing the charcoal pencil from its resting spot on the podium, Sypha started drawing the intricate array onto the tile floor, marking it with sharp dark lines and sweeping arcs. Alucard stood back, watching with arms crossed against his chest, occasionally glancing at certain spots as Trevor continued to move around the Hold. The silence spurred her on to move faster. She had until Trevor got back to finish the array.

  
Trevor returned, adjusting his whips, Morning Star hooked onto his right and Vampire Killer on his left. Leon Belmont's blade was sheathed once again and strapped beside the leather whip. He had a large assortment of other weapons strapped to his person as well. Sypha knew that there were more that she could not see as well.

  
"I recognize that mountain range. If we leave in the morning, we could make it to the castle in a few weeks, as long as we take the backroads and don't stop." Trevor said, looking up from his weapons and froze with one foot about to take its next step. Sypha watched as all emotion bled from his face, leaving the hunter cold and detached. She wished she knew what he was thinking. Probably something bad.

  
"What are you doing?" The hunter snapped, shifting his feet to a wider stance. He was preparing for a fight, and Sypha quailed at the thought. She chanced a look to Alucard, only to find that he had vanished. The dhampir was no longer where he had stood. Trevor frowned and looked around as well, trying to spot the hybrid. Sypha tries to tuck the black spellbook into her blue robes only to freeze as Trevor snaps his attention onto her, gaze intent upon the book.

  
"Sypha," Trevor warned her, stalking towards her. Heels making sharp taps upon the wood, like the ticking of a pendulum. Ominously counting down the time she had left. She scrambled backward while taking great care, not to smudge the array. Trevor has no such qualms but did not smear the charcoal despite stepping on the design. His steps sure but light upon the ground. The steps of a predator.

  
"Give me the book Sypha," Trevor ordered, holding his hand out for it. She stepped back farther, moving out of the seal as Trevor stepped into the middle of the matrix.

  
" _Coercere_ ," Sypha spoke, throwing her hand out towards the hunter. She watched as his body froze in place, feet planted firmly on the floor with his arm partially outstretched to take the book from her. Alucard slunk out from the bookshelves. The dhampir looked cautiously between Trevor and Sypha.

  
"Is it ready?" The hybrid questioned, moving to stand beside her. Trevor growled low in his chest, teeth clenched in a snarl.

  
"Sypha, you promised," Trevor uttered, voice tipped low and angry. Sypha's chest gave a pang of guilt. She knew that Trevor didn't want this, but she wanted this for him. She wanted to do something right for once and not fail.

  
"This is going to fix everything, I promise," Sypha supplicated, begging Trevor to understand. She cautiously stepped towards Trevor, eyes frantically watching for any movement from the hunter. With a trembling hand, she pulled a throwing knife from its place across his chest. Trevor's chest trembled as his breath wheezed out in a rattle.

  
"Don't do this, Sypha, you don't want this blood on your hands," Trevor warned her, blue eyes boring deep into her, piercing her rabbit heart and watering the guilt growing in her soul. She faltered at his words. Was it really going to work? What if it didn't, and she killed him instead? The trembling in her hands grew worse, nearly shaking the knife from her grip, and she felt like she couldn't get enough air.

  
"Sypha," Alucard spoke, moving up behind her to steady her trembling hands, "Breathe. You want this, don't you?" Sypha took a deep breath, nodded, and held the throwing knife tighter between her bandaged fingers. She watched as Trevor's body spasmed as he tried to fight against the binding spell. Taking another deep breath, she spoke.

  
" _Restringo._ " The hunter's muscles seized as his breath caught in his throat. Sweat collected at his temples, plastering his bark hair to his head and mingling with the remaining blood. Handing the spellbook to Alucard to hold, Sypha grasped Trevor's wrist and slit open the man's sleeve all the way up to the shoulder. She then cut open his palm, blood pooling in the folds of his skin. A crimson handful of his life cupped within his hand, and the reason was because of her. The hunter made no sound and said nothing despite her apology. Handing the knife to Alucard, she began drawing the intricate design upon his skin. Bloody rings around the wrist, lines that followed the bones along the arm and runes that spiraled up the flesh. Sypha repeated it on his other arm, removing needed bandages and bloodied clothing. Next, she kneeled down to paint, bands around the ankles with runes that fanned out and melded with the dark charcoal ones along the floor, binding his body to the seal array in bloody chains. There was no going back now. Sypha had condemned them on this path. Taking the black book from Alucard, they both retreated from the matrix, leaving Trevor standing alone, covered in his own blood, and bound to the floor's magic design.

  
Sypha began to chant, watching, as what little color remained in Trevor's face fell away, leaving him wane and pale. Red lightning crackled along the charcoal drawings, burning like embers from a dying fire. The blood inked upon his flesh burned, and turned black before sinking into Trevor's skin. An unseen wind whipped around them, making her robes crack and flap loudly in the air while stray papers and dust began to swirl around them. Her body began to shake, and a cold sweat broke along her spine. With a harsh, final word, Sypha watched as Trevor's eyes rolled back and his body collapsed like a puppet without its strings. The burning matrix vanished, leaving wisps of smoke and a charred starburst on the floor. She wavered, knees on the verge of collapse as exhaustion pulled her down. Sypha could not take a single step. Trevor's chest did not move. Please, God no. What has she done?

  
"Trevor?" Sypha whispered, her voice trembling in fear. She lifted a hand, outstretched and reaching for her friend, who wasn't breathing. Neither was she. Her lungs stuttered in her chest, burning and wanting air.

  
A black and gold blur collapsed on her left. Alucard. The dhampir lay upon the floor, lax and unconscious, gold spread out in a halo around his face. Ethereal and lifeless. Sypha screamed. Her knees collapsed, and the Hold's blackened floor rose to greet her.


	2. Ripple in the Water

Trevor woke with a gasp, water, and laugher loud in his ears. Where was he? What happened? Sypha? Alucard? Blinking water from his eyes, his breath caught in his throat. He's dead. Sypha killed him. 

Standing before him and laughing were two of his sisters, Annette and Isabella. Their bright, happy faces stole his breath away. God, they were so  _ young _ . Trevor forgot how young they looked. All he could remember was their charred remains, burnt flesh sticking to blackened bones and grinning, skeletal smiles screaming in terror and pain. Trevor had buried their bodies. He must be dead too if he was seeing them like this. Fuck. He should have done this sooner if this was his reward for dying. The laughing stopped, and two pairs of blue eyes turned to him. So they could see him. Good. He didn't want to watch from the outside. Not anymore.

"Trevor," Annette called his name, a worried furrow of her brow. She stepped into the creek, soaking her leather boots and cotton breaches. Annette kneeled in the cold water, bringing herself eye-level with him. There was a large lump that he couldn't swallow. He saw her face, the three scars near her scalp, slightly uneven frown, and grey-blue eyes. God, Trevor had forgotten  _ so much _ . He just wanted to cry. It's too good to be true.

Annette reached out, her calloused hands framing his face. They were  _ warm. _ Trevor could feel their weight on his face. Not ghostly touches that he had imagined before in his drunken stupors. Her fingers moved, running lightly over his scalp—a slight sting at the base of his skull, which Trevor ignored. He could care less about a head injury if he was dead. Annette drew her hand back, blood coating her fingertips. He listened as she drew in a sharp breath before turning to Isabella.

"Trevor's hurt, go tell dad," Annette ordered, shifting her stance to a crouch. Trevor watched as Isabella dashed away into the woods. He wanted to call her back, not to leave, not again. Annette reached out for him, drawing his gaze back to her. Strong, thin hands pulled him up. Trevor reached out and tightly grasped the front of her shirt, twisting the fabric. His hands had gone white with how hard he was gripping. Annette hugged him close and guided him out of the creek. Trevor stumbled, not caring where he placed his feet as he tried to latch himself to Annette like a parasite. He wasn't going to let her go. 

_ Ever. _

Trevor vaguely saw the forest around them. Annette was taking him somewhere, but he didn't care. She smelled of lavender and mint, while her body was warm and real against his side. He hardly dared to blink or take his gaze off her.

"It's going to be okay, Trevor. Dad is going to patch you up." Annette reassured him. He was okay with that. If a little injury allowed him to see dad, he wouldn't mind a few more. They stepped out of the treeline and onto the pristine lawn—a vast expanse of green, neat, and lacking weeds. Trevor froze as he stared upwards. His home was here. It was intact and bustling with activity. He watched as staff moved about the grounds, moving supplies, hanging laundry, and fetching water from the well.

_ It was so alive. _

Trevor choked back on a sob. He wasn't going to cry. Isabella jogged out of the manor with his father on her heels. His spectacles glinted in the sunlight, and brown vest flapped wildly with his movement. Dad was carrying his leather medicine bag, emblazoned with the Belmont crest. Trevor wasn't the only one bearing the crest anymore, and he didn't have to endure it alone. His legs shook, and Trevor clutched tighter to Annette, leaning heavily against his dead sister. Annette pulled him closer, her arms the only things keeping him from falling onto the grass to his knees.

"Dad," Annette called out frantically. Trevor wanted to reassure her, but the words refused to slip past his lips. Dad ran faster, surpassing Isabella and drawing the attention of the staff. Trevor almost laughed at the sight. His father in his house slippers and partially dressed with damp brown hair clinging to his head. He must have just finished bathing to be this unkempt. Trevor watched as the slippers slipped on the grass, and his dad spun his arms out to keep his balance. Annette snorted into his hair. God, he's missed this.

Dad stopped before them, dark eyes searching Trevor's face. Handing his bag off to Isabella, dad cradled his face in his hands. Trevor could feel the callouses from past battles, rough yet held him gently. He leaned into his father's touch, Trevor's missed this. One night stands were cold and quick, leaving nothing to cling to in the morning. The hands moved, turning his head to reveal the cut on the back. His father hummed, moving back to look him directly in the eye.

"Trevor, can you tell me how you are feeling?" Dad asked, not moving away. He stayed close where Trevor could reach out and grasp him if he could.

"Good, really good," Trevor responded, smiling at his father. He watched as all three of them frowned at his response, brows furrowing in confusion and worry. Dad looked up to Annette.

"What were you guys doing?"

"We were fighting near the creek for fun. I pushed him into the water." Isabella spoke up, scratching the back of her neck sheepishly, and avoiding eye contact.

"When Trevor didn't get out of the creek, I knew something was wrong," Annette explained. His father sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing his spectacles upward. He looked tired. Did his dad always look this tired?

"Alright, let's get him inside. Maria will look after him for the rest of the day. No more pushing each other into the creek," Dad ordered, taking his bag from Isabella. Annette adjusted him under her arm, pulling him back onto steadier feet. Both of his sisters agreed quietly, no protests on his orders. Isabella moved to his other side, helping Annette guide him into the house.

It was just as he remembered. The grand staircase welcomed them as they entered the front door: warm cream-colored walls, large paintings of landscapes from far away lands, and dark wood. Filled with the smell of sage and lavender and a distinct lack of clear sky overhead.  


_ Home. _

Trevor was finally home. Trevor and his sisters followed their father into the kitchen. There standing before the stove and directing some of the cooking staff was his mother. She was wearing her hair in a tight bun and a dark blue dress. Despite the lack of weapons that he could see, Trevor knew that his mom could take down anything, even if she wore a dress, especially if she was wearing a dress. Annette set him onto a stool, keeping him in his seat with a hand to his shoulder. He watched as dad approached his mom and began whispering to her. She met his eyes briefly, a worried frown on her face. They spoke for a little longer before returning.

"Trevor, darling, can you tell me what day it is?" His mother asked, crouching down so that they were eye to eye. She could see something in his face while Trevor could see it on hers. He didn't care. He was looking at his mother again. Shaking his head, Trevor refused to look away. Did it matter what day it was when they were dead? That frown returned on their faces, and they shared a look above his head.

He could see the staff behind them give each other nervous looks as well. Something was going on, Trevor straightened his spine and ignored the throbbing at the back of his head.

"What day is it?" He asked his mother. She looked directly into his eye and gave a small reassuring smile.

"It is September 13th, 1468, in the year of our Lord." His mother answered, reaching up to brush some hair away from his face. Trevor's breath catch in his throat. It couldn't be. No, please, God no. "Trevor?"

Trevor folded over himself, vaguely aware of the hands upon his back and questioning voices in his ears. He sobbed a strangled sound that silenced his dead family. That one sob turned into gasping breaths. Someone pulled him off the stool and into their arms. He wrapped his legs and arms around the person, hands grasping soft fabric lined with lace. It was his mom. She rubbed circles on his back and made shushing noises in his ear.

"I'm going to put him to bed," She whispered to his father and moved out of the kitchen. Trevor buried his face in the lace collar of her dress. He didn't want to look at anything at the moment. God, Sypha, what have you done?

His mother said nothing as she climbed the grand staircase, just held him close. Trevor held her just as tight. Tucking him into his bed, she kissed his forehead and told him to rest. The wooden door clicked with a frightening finality, chilling him down to his bones despite the warm bedcovers.

He laid there, staring at a ceiling that he had not seen in eight years. Somehow, he missed seeing the stars above his head. It was open and free, unlike this room. The closed walls made his skin itch to be outside, to stalk underneath forest branches and ghost over the land. It was all going to happen tonight. He would not be waiting long for his nomadic life, and he would be alone once again. Sitting up, with the bedsheets pooling at his waist, Trevor stared at his hands. Unblemished, uncalloused hands that have not fought or killed. Is this how it was going to end? Was he going to repeat the worst night of his life for eternity? Is Sypha going to send him back to relive this moment repeatedly in some vain hope to make him happy? 

Trevor dropped his head into his hands. Fuck. He told her that the spell wasn't worth it. Shit. He's a fucking Belmont, and he won't take this lying down. If God was going to torture him like this, then he'll give just as much shit back. He won't let his family die, not this time. Peeking through his fingers, Trevor looked out the window and into the woods beyond. He knew what he wanted to do, and there was a plant he needed to pull it off.

* * *

"Trevor, darling, what's wrong?" His mother asked as she finished her tea, setting the teacup back onto the side table, where it joined the empty one of his father's, who sat in the second wingback chair. Trevor hovered near the door to the sitting room, desperately trying not to look at the hearthstone or the tea.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. Mom looked up with a worried look on her face. His father turned to look at him as well, book dropping into his lap. Light glinted off his glasses in the flickering lamplight.

"Trevor, does your head hurt?" She asked him, moving to stand up from the chair, he shook his head and refused to meet her eyes. Trevor didn't want to watch it happen, watch her fall. Turning away from them, he stepped into the room and towards the hearthstone. Familiar as before, when he, Sypha and Alucard had found it. A thud of a body hitting carpet and a surprised cry filled the silence of the room.

"Maria," His father called out loudly, but no second thud reached his ears. He must have figured out Taking a deep breath, Trevor recalled the words that Sypha had spoken to open the Enochian Ward.

_ "Invocatio. Mahorela. Sor. Gru. Odo. Teloch,"  _ Trevor whispered. The hearthstone moved and rippled, revealing the stairwell into the Hold.

"Trevor?" His mother whispered, struggling to get up from the floor, her arms quivering with the effort. He wanted to help her up, but there was too little time. It was getting late, and he needed to get ready. This was his only chance. A quick glance at his father, slumped sideways on the leather armrest, spectacled eyes following all of Trevor's movements and his mouth twisted in a worried frown. He didn't say anything to Trevor, face stoic, and unreadable. It was like looking at a stranger. They may have been his parents, once upon a time, but they don't know him now and the lengths that he would go through just to see them live.

"Sorry, mom, the sedative, should wear off in an hour. I should be back by then." Trevor quietly threw behind him as he descended into a familiar Hold, now intact and pristine. She faintly called again, but he didn't stop. Trevor wanted to comfort her, soothe the worry from her voice and face. He hated doing this to his family. His hand trailed along the railing. It felt a lifetime ago when he was here last despite it being only hours. There were signs of activity, unlike when he entered with Sypha and Alucard.

A clock chimed above in the living room, echoing down the stairwell to the bottom. Trevor hastened his steps and flew down the staircase, taking two, sometimes three stairs at a time. They would be here soon. The same wooden door rested at the bottom of the stairwell and opened with the slightest nudge. There was no creak of old wood and rusted metal. The hinges were well oiled and cared for. The inside of the Hold was dark, no candles lit, too much of a risk leaving them unattended. Trevor didn't need the light. He had scoured the entire Hold, memorizing crucial places holding weapon stashes and holy water. Morning Star was first. Trevor had to break through the wall with a war hammer from one of the higher floors. With all the books piled off to the side, he dragged the chest out. His father would skin him alive if Trevor damaged the books. He broke the lock and pulled out the familiar weapon, the same as when he had first found it. Then it was a pair of short swords strapped to his lower back, daggers strapped to his right thigh, smoke bombs and grenades in the hip pouches, throwing knives across his chest. The leather whip, Vampire Killer, was probably somewhere in mom's office, but he couldn't risk losing time if he looked. 

Trevor mentally counted how long he's been in the Hold, about twenty minutes or so. He didn't have any more time if he was going to stop them. Trevor made his way back to the stairwell, passing by the categorizing podium when his boot slipped on the floor, almost toppling him. He reached for the item and felt fabric. Lifting the cloth, Trevor recognized it immediately.

"How did you get here?" He whispered in the dark, fingers clutching a mix of fabric and fur. It shouldn't be here, but it was. His cloak that was left behind, when Sypha had performed the spell. Did it get caught in the array, and brought back with him? Shaking himself from his thoughts, Trevor dropped the cloak over the pedestal. He would come back for it later. It was too big for his twelve-year-old body and would only get in the way at the moment. He left the Hold and began climbing the stairs again, briefly glancing at the portrait of Leon Belmont. The man glowed in the dim light of the stairwell, blonde hair a bright white, and shining like a beacon in the dark. Trevor would do better this time or die trying.

His mother had managed to crawl a couple of feet from her leather wingback chair, while his father was still were Trevor left him. The man's dark eyes moved from his struggling mother to him as he emerged from the Hold. He watched as those dark spectacled eyes widened, taking in the weapons that adorned his body. Ma was clawing at the floor, nails biting into the Persian rug. She was still trying to get her body to move, to stand up.

"Trevor," she cried out, "what are you doing? Darling, please stop." His mother pleaded as he walked to the front door. She began trying to move even more earnestly—her movements panic-induced and desperate.

"Maria," his father whispered sadly, eyes never leaving Trevor. He seemed to have understood that Trevor wasn't going to stop what he was going to do.  


"Don't hurt yourself, mom. It's going to be okay." He tried reassuring her before closing the door behind him and stepping onto the dying grass. His mother wailed, and his breath stuttered in his throat. Trevor breathed, calming his thundering heart, vapor escaping to float upwards. Young hands dropped to grip Morning Star, and one of the short sword's hilts. Trevor stepped away from the large manor doors and the safety held within. The grass crunched beneath his boots, dry and fragile. Fall was in full swing, with winter approaching fast. The first snow was going to fall two days from now, and he wasn't going to be the only one to see it this time.

The moon was beginning to rise, partially shadowed by dark clouds. Trevor slipped into the treeline, following the line of shadows. Circling the manor, for any hidden enemies, he followed the road to the mansion, staying hidden in the trees. He could hear the people. They made no attempts to conceal their movements. It was a large group of about forty people, all carrying torches and some form of weapon. Most were dressed in priest garbs, but a few were villagers he had met before. So it was them that brought the church down on them. Trevor pulled a throwing knife from its sheath. The leather creaked under his grip.

Slipping behind the group, he slit the throats of two stragglers before retreating. Their bodies hit the ground with a heavy thump, stopping the others in their tracks. The villagers gave worried cries of surprise while the priests began to murmur amongst themselves. They circled, backs facing each other, and trying to find him in the dark, like scared sheep to the slaughter. Their eyes wildly flickering back and forth. Throwing knives met the throats of three more, collapsing in a gargle of blood. Another three, then two more. He only had one more throwing knife, but it would be best to hold on to just one if he needed it to slip into a lung or two.

"Reveal yourself, Belmont. You have been excommunicated from the church and charged with performing black magic and dealings with the devil." The bishop shouted from the middle of the crowd. Coward. Indulging the man, Trevor stepped onto the road, placing himself between the group and the manor. They would have to step over his dead body to get to his family, and he would not die before them. Moonlight briefly illuminated the road, revealing him to the group.

"It's a child." One of the villagers cried out, voice filled with despair and fear.

"Even the children are guilty. He has killed ten of us," shouted the bishop, arm snapping out and pointing at him. Trevor released Morning Star; the weapon clattered to the dirt in a shower of silver metal. The villagers trembled and tried to run, but the priests prevented them. "Do not run for God protects us from evil." The bishop orated. It seemed to soothe their worries slightly. Gullible.

"Your God holds no power on Belmont land." Trevor declared. His God was not their God. Unease settled over the group, shuffling their feet in the dirt, hand gripping weapons tighter. He could smell their fear.

"He is only a child, kill him." The bishop ordered. Priests charged forward with grim sneers on their faces. Trevor swung the weapon around, smashing the weight into the skulls of four priests, crushing bone and brain. There was a second before the rest joined the two remaining priests. Their shouts were loud and incomprehensible, just a cacophony of noise in the still night air. It reminded him of some of the demon hordes that had smelled fresh blood. Trevor knew what to do with demons, and he's fought those for almost a decade. Humans were just softer. He took another six down before it was too crowded to swing the whip. There was no retreat to regroup either. 

Dropping Morning Star, he pulled his short swords, piercing the priest's chest behind him and stabbing under the jaw of the one before him. A flash of silver moved on his left. Trevor tried to avoid the attack but didn't compensate far enough. The blade caught the flesh above his left brow and gouged a line of pain down his face, leaving him blind on his left. Shit. He wasn't quite used to this younger body yet. Trevor twisted and slit the man's throat, spraying himself in a shower of blood. The man crumpled with a gurgle and flailing hands. His breaths grew ragged; this body not used to continuous fighting. Another blade pierced his shoulder, one sliced along his abs, his thigh, and a pitchfork got his side. Trevor huffed out a quiet laugh. Of course. All the scars he had before, made by demons and men alike, were being repainted onto his skin—a small price to pay to keep his family alive. 

More and more priests fell, covering the road in bodies and red. At last, it was just Trevor and the bishop. The man stood there frozen, quivering hands clutching at a small silver cross. He began praying in Latin, calling for protection against evil, and backing up, only to stumble over a dead body and landing heavily in the dirt. His white robes were greedily soaking in the blood of his brethren, dying the cloth in murder and the color of Hell. Trevor slunk towards the man, casually stepping over bodies, holding his remaining short sword, the other buried in the chest of a villager behind him. Latin stuttering to a stop as he loomed over the bishop, who stared frightfully up at him. Trevor smiled at the man, one full of teeth.

"Monster," escaped from the man's lips in a breath, before Trevor severed the head from its base. The headless corpse collapsed backward, blood sluggishly spouting from the jugular. He wiped the blood from the blade on a clean portion of the dead man's clothes. He'll clean the rest later after he slept. Trevor gathers the rest of his scattered weapons, all covered in blood, brains, and gore. A murder of crows watched on from the tops of trees, waiting to swoop in and devour the dead. He could hear wolves and foxes circling as well. The animals were going to eat well tonight. Hopefully, they wouldn't become sick from eating them.

Trevor limped back to the manor, limbs heavy and occasionally staggering. Blood dripped from his clothing, a mix of his own and the forty or so people he had just slaughtered. The wet weight reminded him of the times he had to swim across rivers and lakes with his clothes on. The fabric was pulling on his limbs and sticking to his skin.

Ahead, the lights in the windows had grown since he had left. Mother had probably woken the staff with her calls. The sedative should be in its last stages, so she is most likely moving on her own. Shit. He didn't know what he was going to tell her. Trevor didn't think he could say what happened to him for almost a decade. She wouldn't believe him. Sometimes he couldn't believe it. 

He grasped the brass door handle and froze from entering. Muffled shouting could be heard through the door; it sounded like his mother. He leaned his forehead against the decorated door bearing his family crest. God, he was so tired. The door was wrenched open, causing him to stumble, and a shriek filled his ears. Trevor tried to right himself, finding a wall to lean his hand against, vaguely acknowledging that he left a bloody handprint on the cream wall. It was one of the staff. She was staring at him in horror, hand covering her mouth and eyes blown wide. The woman was wearing simple trousers and a shirt with a dagger sheathed at her waist. Probably a scout sent to look for him by his mother. Well, she didn't have to look far, at least. 

He spotted his five sisters stumbling down the stairs, clutching the railings to prevent themselves from falling. They stopped at the bottom, not daring to come closer. Staff were hovering near the stairs as well and sticking their heads out from various rooms in the entryway. His mother and father stumbled out of the living room, with help from a pair of staff men. Mother's face twisted from dazed confusion to anger and settling with horror. Her mouth falls open, and she staggered towards him, throwing off the help's steadying hands.

"Trevor, darling," his name falling from her lips in a gasp as her calloused hands capture his head. He flinches and her hands' retreat, hovering over his cheeks with a slight tremble. "Oh, Trevor." She says, exasperated, sounding as tired as he felt. Her hands fell to settle just above the juncture between his neck and shoulders. He gives her a tired smile.

"I'm fine. Everything is okay," Trevor consoled her. She returned a small, broken smile of her own before a prick to his neck had him staggering away from her. He reached up, plucking a feathered dart from the side of his jugular. Looking up at his mother, Trevor's vision wavered as he struggled to stay on his feet and fought not to vomit. Hands grabbed for him, and he attacked. Stumbling, he heard the shatter of porcelain and hit a wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I made it. Short chapter, but I might add more in later. Comments, criticisms, and questions are welcomed. See you guys Wednesday.


	3. A Liar's Rosary

Maria wavered. She leaned against the hall table, the ruined porcelain vase at her feet. A beautiful mix of blue, white, and gold. A gift from Henry from his visit to the east. On the floor lay her son, covered in blood and weapons. She didn't know what to do. What happened? What went wrong? Why Trevor?

"Maria," Henry called out to her, leaning heavily against one of the staff members. He was more affected by the sedative than her, it seems. She sighed.

"Put him on the infirmary bed," She ordered the staff before turning to her husband. "Henry, he needs you to tend to him." Maria watched as they carefully lifted her youngest child and carried him to the farthest room, tucked away around the stairs. Her girls were watching from the stairs. All showed signs of being sedated as well, just as she figured. "Madison, search the grounds and find out what Trevor was doing," Maria ordered the woman standing at the door. The scout, Madison, gave a short, sharp bow before sliding out the door. Henry shuffled along to the infirmary with the staff's help.

"Christina, come." Her husband beckoned to her fourth oldest, who followed after as fast as she could. Her white nightgown, creased and catching on her toes. Maria's other girls stood upon the stairs, unsure of what they should do. Sighing, Maria rubbed at her temples, where an ache was beginning to form.

"Come on, girls, let me get you to bed. Everything will be better after a night's rest." Maria herded her daughters back up the curving grand staircase and into their respective rooms. Caroline near the stairs, Annette across from her. Isabella tucked away at the end of the hall with Trevor placed between hers and Caroline's. Christina was across from Trevor. Tucking her children in, she placed kisses upon each of their brows, brushed the hair away from their eyes. She hovered in her eldest daughter's room.

"Mother, is Trevor going to be alright?" Caroline asked, sitting up against the headboard, wavy brown hair loose about her shoulders and nightgown slipping off a sun-kissed shoulder. Maria righted the gown, tightening the buttons that ran down the back.

"I don't know," She confided to her oldest. Caroline was a woman now; she needed to know what was happening as well. Maria's other daughters would need to be told the truth soon as well. "What Trevor has done is," she trailed off, unsure how to put her son's actions and behavior into words. Maria knew that he was her son. Trevor spoke the same, and yet it was different, older, more tired somehow. Instead of a young boy that stood over her, she saw a man—a man with demons dogging his heels and a dark cast to his face. A mystery that she could not fathom. Not yet.

"Unlike himself?" Caroline completed for her, chocolate brown eyes meeting Maria's own. She gave another sigh, sitting down beside her daughter upon the bed. It gave beneath her weight, inviting her to sleep and forget the troubles of the day. Oh, how she wished to forget. The sight of her only son covered in blood would haunt her for many nights to come.

"Yes, unlike himself. I worry something else had happened at the creek today," She explained to her daughter, leaning against the headboard. Caroline's head tilted upwards to stare at her ceiling, painted with the constellations that hung above their heads in the night sky.

"Could it be a creature of some sort?" Her daughter wondered out loud. Maria stared at Caroline, waiting for her to elaborate. "Like a water nymph or something?" Maria hummed, looking down at her hands as she considered the implications of such a thing, her only son taken, enslaved, or bewitched by a creature.

"It is possible, but Annette and Isabella were there with him. They would have noticed if something was amiss," Maria reasoned, rubbing the back of her neck in frustration. There were few answers to her questions, and Trevor was in no state to explain. Sighing, Maria stood from Caroline's bed. She brushed back her daughter's hair once more before retreating from the bedroom.

With the soft click of the door latch, Maria moved to lean against the grand staircase's railing. It seems the sedative was still in her body, trying to drag her into unconscious depths. It pulls at her bones, grounding her in place and leaving her head heavy upon her shoulders. Henry would be feeling quite as tired as she, if not more so. She hoped that it would not hinder him from treating Trevor's wounds. The crack of the main door drew her gaze to the manor's entrance. Panting within its opening was Madison, who shook and held little color within her face. A few of the staff approached with worried words and calming, steadying hands. Maria approached with cautious steps upon the stairs, lest she falls and breaks bones.

"Lady Belmont," Madison huffed with a tremor in her voice, her eyes wide and terrified. Her mouth moved, but no sound came out. Maria gently grasped the girl's hand.

"What is it, Madison? What did you find to leave you in such a state?" Maria asked voice pitched low and soothing. There was no need to frighten the girl further. "Bodies, Lady Belmont, so many bodies," Madison cried out, pulling her hand from hers to hide her face within her hands. The staff around her began to whisper their worries, eyes glancing out the open doorway in fear.

"Enough," She commanded, effectively silencing the group, before turning her gaze back to Madison. "Explain." The scout peeked up at her through the cracks in her fingers. Drawing shaky breaths, Madison calmed and steadied her stance, standing straight and dropping her hands.

"There were approximately forty bodies upon the manor road. The group consisted of priests, a bishop, and a few villagers based on their clothing, and many were holding weapons and torches. This was not the work of a night creature, Lady Belmont," Madison described. More whispers broke out around her, but Maria cared not. The implication was clear. Trevor had murdered humans. However, her son could not have done this. Trevor was only a child of twelve years. He had no true training and was to begin on his thirteenth year—the same age as when all her daughters began. Stealing her spine, Maria pulled a sword from its mounted position on the wall.

"Adam fetch me Vampire Killer from my study," she commanded one of the hovering staff, who immediately jogged away.

"The rest of you gather your arms and set up patrols for three-hour shifts in pairs for the night." Receiving verbal assurances from the staff, she watched as they dispersed with grim countenances, moving across the wooden floor on near-silent steps. Adrian quickly returned with her leather whip, a sword strapped to his side. Good.

"Madison, Adam, with me. I would like to see such a sight with my own eyes," stated Maria, gliding out of the manor with the two staff at her heels. She stalked the path towards the town. Moonlight guided their way, while above their heads, carrion birds watched with black eyes. Quite a ways down the road, Maria found what Madison had. Corpses littered the path, soaking the ground with blood that quickly turned to mud. She could see that they died very suddenly, not a movement wasted or the slightest hint of hesitation. Her son could not have done this by himself. He had no training for this kind of work. Trevor knew that we did not kill people. So why?

A raven cawed and took flight. Maria released her breath, shoulders relaxing at the feeling of being watched vanished. Snapping her head up and around, she scanned the trees, looking for any hint of movement. Whatever it was was good. She did not even sense their gaze until it was gone from her back. Maria relented to having lost the being, returning to stare at the bodies. Many were holding knives or some farm tool turned weapon. Protection against the night, but why would they travel so late in the evening? Were they coming to warn them?

Sighing, Maria turned to Adam and Madison.

"Burn the corpses. We don't need night creatures coming this way for an easy meal." Adam nodded at her command and began piling the corpses together. Madison hesitated for a brief moment, before quickly moving to complete her task.

Turning away, Maria returned to the manor. She could see staff patrol the perimeter in pairs, silent and searching. Stepping into her home, Maria said good night to the staff that was off to bed. She then moved to the room under the stairs. In the room, Henry hovered over their unconscious son, dressing battle wounds.

"Your back," said Henry, turning to look at her over his shoulder. He must have seen something on her face because he quickly tucked Trevor under the white sheets. Returning his attention to Maria, he stepped closer and pulled her into his arms. She went willingly, taking comfort from her husband. Deep in her heart, she knew that this night would be the beginning of a nightmare. She looked at her son. Trevor would be in the middle of it all. Maria could feel it in her bones.

* * *

Inside and seated upon a wooden stool was Caroline. Falling sunlight turned her hair a soft golden bronze that waved like wheat fields in the wind. Her daughter focused intently on the cross-stitch in her hands, an array of beautiful flowers painted onto a white cloth. Maria stepped further into the room, coming to stand at her child's shoulder.

"It's beautiful," Maria praised, folding her arm across Caroline's shoulder and pulling her to Maria's side. She looked up and smiled brightly before turning back to her work. The door opened again, revealing Annette and Isabella, dressed in simple dresses. Cream for Annette and a blue-violet for Isabella. Smiling at her daughters and beckoning them closer, Maria brushed away locks of hair from their faces.

"Hello, my girls, what are you two up to?" She asked, glancing down at the basket in Annette's hands and wooden crate in Isabella's. Both daughters gave sly smiles, full of mischief and mirth.

"Nothing bad, mother," reassured Annette, stepping around her to place the basket beside Caroline, who briefly glanced up at her movement. Maria spotted the smile that appeared on Caroline's face as well. Isabella followed her sister, seating herself upon the bed. They would need to retrieve more seats, lest they soil their dresses. They had so few that was unmarred by their lifestyle. Maria had forbidden her daughters from wearing the dresses outside the manor. They had ruined so many with their spars.

The door opened once more, revealing her last two daughters, Gabriella and Christina, along with her husband. Henry gave a huff of laughter, eyes flitting from her to each of his children.

"It seems we have all decided to stay with Trevor today," Henry spoke, guiding Gabriella and Christina further into the bare room. Maria watched as her daughters joined Isabella upon the foot of the bed, discussing what they had decided to bring with them. Behind her, Henry called out into the hallway for chairs to be brought in. Her gaze moved from her daughters to her only son. Trevor lay upon the white sheets, olive skin pale and glimmering with sweat. A new scar rested upon his face, fresh and painfully red. She hoped that he would not lose his sight. It would be difficult for him to learn should that happen. He would not be able to become a hunter like her and his sisters. Trevor would be left in the care of Henry, studying and researching. Maria knows that her son would never want such a life.

Soft laughter drew her gaze back to her daughters, watching as Isabella pulled throwing knives from the wooden crate. Annette took the basket that she had placed beside Caroline into her hands. Staff marched in with chairs for her, Henry and Annette, placing them as directed. Annette at the foot beside her sisters, Henry beside the nightstand and Trevor's slumbering form and her own alongside Caroline's. Seating herself upon the chair, Maria sighed and smoothed the fabric of her gown. Beneath her fingertips and underneath the dark blue cloth, rested a string of beads, resting heavily upon her lap. She had hoped that it would only be her when Trevor awoke. Henry and her daughters need not know of it. They had not seen what she had. She needed to know what had happened, and who was there.

They waited in patient silence. Henry cared for Trevor, wiping sweat from his brow and smoothing dark hair from his temples. Caroline continued to cross-stitch, humming lullabies beneath her breath. Gabriella and Christina read silently beside each other, leaning into their shoulders. All the while, Annette and Isabella cleaned, sharpened, and cared for the weapons that they had brought. Maria did not know where they had acquired them, the staff perhaps.

The sun began to wane and descend from the sky. Maria had not moved from her spot, and her children did not either. They were content to remain in the room, with the world locked away outside. Maria watched as the leaves began to fall from tree branches, signaling the end of summer. It would become cold soon, and snowfall is nearly upon them. A few more hunts are needed to fill the cellar with smoked meat, while the hides could be traded or turned into clothing. A rattling of chains startled her. Turning around, Maria watched as Isabella pulled out a long chain whip, the weight on the end encrusted with blood and bone. Her breath froze in her throat. It was the whip Trevor had last night. She watched as he adjusted it at his hip as he left the manor.

"Where did you find that?" Maria demanded as her daughter froze in place, blue eyes snapping to hers.

"I gave it to them," Caroline spoke softly, not looking up from her stitchwork.

"Why?" Maria turned to her oldest, noticing Henry had shifted to face Caroline as well.

"They're filthy and since Trevor cannot care for them, Annette and Isabella volunteered to do so. As you have always said, mother, _Weapons must be cleaned and sharpened after battle._ " Caroline stated, turning her gaze to Maria, her eyes sharp and challenging. She could see the knowledge in her daughter's eyes, knowing how her mother thought and planned. Maria could see Caroline become the next Belmont Head, bearing the ring that she currently wore upon her finger.

"Sorry," a voice whispered. A voice that Maria had hoped and dreaded to hear. Trevor. All eyes turned upon her son, who looked at them under half-closed lids—the blue startling and almost glowing in the fading evening light. Maria's breath hitched, joy, and fear battled in her chest. The sight of her son awake and coherent, unlike yesterday, a welcome sight. She stood from her chair and kneeled before Trevor's bed, hand caressing softly alongside the new scar. Trevor leaned into her hand, eyes falling closed at her touch. Maria almost sobbed aloud. She didn't want to do this. Not to her son, not her baby.

"Its alright, Trevor, everything is going to be okay," Maria reassured, gently petting Trevor's face. Henry's hand settled comfortingly across her upper back; fingers spread wide and steadying. She had to do this. Lord, give her strength for the sin she will commit. She will not ask for forgiveness for Henry would not forgive her and nor would the Lord. Standing up, she pulled away as her husband quickly stepped in to see about Trevor's wounds, carefully lifting him to lean against the headrest. Maria watched from Caroline's side as Henry murmured with their son, giving gentle smiles and encouragement. She watched as Trevor relished the attention, absorbing the soft touches and smiles with glistening eyes that threatened tears. Maria swallowed the rock in her throat, lifting a hand to cover her mouth, biting back a sob at the sight. She wanted to hold Trevor close and never let go, but Maria was a Belmont Hunter first and the Head of the family. Drawing a shaking breath, she straightened her spine, pulling her shoulders back and steadying her stance.

"Henry, step away," She commanded, watching as her husband rounded on her, eyes wide with surprise.

"Maria?" He questioned cautiously, taking in her stance and standing into one of his own. She watched as his face hardened and refused to move. Maria silently begged him to move, pleading in her heart that he would understand.

"Move, Henry," She snapped, watching as her children jumped in fear at the tone of her voice. All except Trevor. He watched her under his lashes, reserved and wary. A muscle in Henry's jaw jumped, and veins bulged along his neck. Her husband stepped away from the bed with silent footsteps and a warrior's gait as he moved to stand beside the children, not behind her. No, he was angry.

Trevor sighed and ran his hand through his ruffled, tangled hair. Eyes briefly lost behind closed lids. With a groan, Trevor tossed the sheets aside, revealing a long nightgown, and stood from the bed. He never wavered despite his injuries and stared directly into her soul. Maria recognized those eyes. She had seen them countless times in the mirror. The eyes of a hunter. Slipping her hand into the folds of her dress, she drew out the string of beads. Trevor's eyes widened, so he recognized them. A sharp intake from Henry drew her sight to her husband. Henry said nothing and refused to meet her gaze. Without a word, Maria stepped forward and wrapped the rosary around Trevor's neck. She could see the muscles in her son's shoulders tighten at her movement, but he remained still. He wanted to lash out and fight her.

"Tell me, Trevor, did you kill those men?" She asked, stepping away from her son.

"Yes," Trevor answered with no hesitation or hitch to his voice. The wooden beads did not move on his neck.

"Why did you do it?" Her son's hand twitched before quickly relaxing.

"They were going to kill all of us," he explained, eyes darting over to his sisters before returning to her. No movement.

"Who told you so?" Maria questioned, "Those men were our allies, despite our differences." A sneer twisted her son's face, turning it wicked and sinister.

"They were monsters, mother, needed to be put down like the dogs they were." Trevor snarled, taking a firm step forward. Maria slipped her hand into her sleeve, fingers brushing the knife she kept hidden there. Trevor's eyes followed her movement and retreated to his standing place. She watched as all trust faded, leaving his face blank and sharp. "Are you going to put me down too?" He whispered lowly, body shifting for battle.

Maria couldn't drop her hand fast enough. Despite her duties, she would never be able to kill her children. She would whatever it takes to save them.

"Never. I just need to know why you killed those men, Trevor," Maria insisted desperately, "Was it for power? Fame? Money? Why?"

"I did it to save you. _All of you_ ," Trevor cried out angrily, throwing his hand out to gesture at his sisters and father. His shoulders slumped. Maria watched as Trevor's face drew tight with exhaustion. Her hands itched to pull her son to her, hold him close, and soothe his worries.

"For what? Did you make a deal? You know not to make a deal with any creature." Maria pushed, eyes staring intently at the rosary beads that hang around her son's neck. This was the question that would answer everything. Whatever that had been watching her must have had contact with her son. Trevor scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. Stance slipping into a more relaxed one.

"No, I never made any deals with a night creature," he told her. The rosary cinched tight, startling Trevor to choke and fumble at the beads in a desperate attempt to get air. Her heart dropped like a stone.

"Tell me the truth, Trevor, it will only get tighter," Maria warned. Trevor said nothing, only vainly trying to get his fingers beneath the string of beads.

"Mother, stop this," Caroline ordered, standing from her seat, voice tight with fear. Her stitchwork clattered to the floor, bouncing and rolling underneath the bed. Caroline grasped her arm, pulling at it to gain her attention. Maria did not look away from her son as Trevor dropped to his knees, fingers becoming too weak to fight and. "Mother," she called again, desperate.

"Did you make a deal with a creature?" Maria demanded again, pulling her arm from her daughter's grasp. Trevor gave a nod. The rosary released, resting inert against his collarbones. Her son collapsed to the floor in a fit of coughs and desperate gasps of air. Caroline stepped forward to help her brother. Maria snapped out and snatched her shoulder and pulling her back. Caroline snarled and turned on her, anger clear on her face.

"This is wrong, mother, we shouldn't be doing this to Trevor. He is twelve years old," Caroline protested, pulling herself from Maria's grasp and away. Sighing, Maria kneeled before her son. His blue eyes blazed angrily from beneath dark locks.

"What creature did you make a deal with?" Maria asked softly. "Please tell me the truth, darling, I don't want to hurt you." She begged, reaching her hand out to touch her son. A hand slapped hers away, and Maria recoiled. Trevor had never lashed out at her.

"Don't touch me," he snarled. Trevor looked feral, eyes wild, and blood that had seeped into the white nightgown. She could hardly recognize her own son.

"Was it a witch?"

"No."

"A fae?"

"No."

"A nymph?"

"No."

"Djinn?"

"No."

"Vampire?" Maria snarled, frustrated, her hands pulled at her hair. They were getting nowhere. She froze, Trevor hadn't answered. "Was it a vampire, Trevor?" Looking at her son, she watched as the emotions bled away, leaving her looking at a statue.

"No." The rosary beads tightened again. Trevor's eyes bulged, wide with fear. His fingers scraped at his throat, drawing bloody lines along the skin.

"Don't lie, Trevor," Maria admonished, watching as Trevor once again struggled to breathe. "So you made a deal with a vampire, who?" Trevor shook his head, refusing to answer. "Do you know its name?" He shook his head again, and the rosary got tighter. Trevor slumped forward, forehead resting against the ground as his body shuddered, begging for air. His fingers spasmed against the wooden floor.

Suddenly the rosary beads cracked, and the item released its hold on her son's throat. Maria could see a line of red circles that were darkening very quickly. They would become bruises. She was sure of it. Trevor scrambled to pull the rosary from his throat. Maria raised her hand to stop him. The beads constricted again, tighter.

"Mother, please, stop this," Caroline begged, dropping to her knees beside them.

"As soon as Trevor tells me which vampire he made a deal with." Maria settled.

"I...I don't," Trevor gasped, hands returning to his throat. Caroline leaned closer to her brother.

"Was it a fake name?" Caroline whispered, hands reaching out to grasp one of Trevor's. Trevor squeezed hard and nodded. The beads released, leaving her son gasping for air once again.

"What did they call themselves?" Maria questioned sharply, standing up from the floor. She watched as Trevor trembled and breathed out a pained sigh, closing his eyes for a brief moment. Her son had made a deal with a vampire. And he was protecting it.

"Alucard," her son whispered, voice rough and filled with guilt. Reaching out, she caressed the top of his head despite the flinch her son gave.

"Good, now I can hunt the creature down for what it made you do," Maria reassured, stepping back towards the door. It was time for her to hunt. A stuttered gasp and flailing limbs sounded behind her. She turned to look at her child.

"No, please don't. Mom, don't go after him, please," Trevor begged, pulling himself up onto shaky limbs. Maria whipped around. How dare. She could see the desperation and terror on her son's face. This wasn't just a deal; the vampire had done something to her son. Maria was going to kill the bastard slowly.

"Don't worry, Trevor, as soon as the vampire is gone; everything will go back to normal," She promised, giving him a small smile.

"I'll leave," he threatened, "and never come back. You won't ever see me again." Maria stood there. She could feel the anger bubbling in her chest. A rage that a vampire held such power over her son, who would threaten to return to the creature. She would never allow that to happen; Maria would not lose her son to such a beast. She turned to her husband.

"Henry, lock him in his room. Make sure he cannot escape." She ordered, turning on her heel and stepping out into the hallway. The hunt was on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made it again. Comments, criticism, and questions are welcomed. See you guys on Wednesday.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I've decided to finally post it. The next chapter should hopefully be out by Wednesday next week. Let me know what you think. Comments, criticism, and questions are welcomed.


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